


The Lion that spins The Wheel

by AsunderWolf



Category: Moebius: Empire Rising
Genre: History, M/M, Other, PTSD, Panic Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-04 07:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11550726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsunderWolf/pseuds/AsunderWolf
Summary: After Qatar, Malachi and David decided to step outside the project that gave them so many troubles. However, the national problems spreading all along the country and a global economy falling apart in an spiral down forced them to put their hands in action once again, returning to FITA. The project was far from over.[Canon-based fic focused on continuing the plot related to Moebius project while exploring the relationship of the main two characters. Also, a bit of political History here and there.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkRose89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkRose89/gifts).



> This is a fic dedicated to DarkRose89. She suggested me this game when I was dealing with a really strong flu, I was feeling like shit, and her kind conversation and the game, and all its gayness helped me to heal faster :D. Thank you! :D

 

_Stay back. Stay Back._

__

 

* * *

 

The Lion grows in everyone's soul.

It gets larger over time, and hungrier.

The Lion awaits quiet in the darkest inners, in the less visible corners.

It's always a secret that everyone has inside.

* * *

 

"No, I don't care. I had enough. _We_ had enough" Malachi was on his mobile, going back and forth through the living room, watching David prepare breakfast. "We don't care. As I told you before, use your flag for an uncomfortable purpose, because we don't want-. Wait. You were who didn't guarantee Mr. Walker's safety. You were responsible of that. He almost died." Malachi got suddenly silenced, and swallowed.

David had to look at him due to such abrupt ending.

"Do not look for us. We are done. Period."

Malachi hung up the call and sat in the marble kitchen counter of the kitchen where a steamy tea of personal blend was awaiting him. As soon as he took place, Walker sat at his front putting a tray of toasts, butter, and jam between them. The man had prepared some eggs and a big coffee mug.

"Good to know we aren't going to deal with them anymore" David said.

"I hope so. We had enough problems last time."

"Speaking of which. Don't you think it's a good time for taking a break?"

Malachi stopped his sip midway and looked at David with a slight curve of his lips. "Oh?. And what do you suggest?."

"I don't know. I was thinking to visit my sister".

He immediately frowned and took a slice of toast, putting butter and jam on it "I see. Go ahead."

"Yeah, well. Thing is, I need to know you'll be out of troubles, so I thought you may get some rest too, considering all what happened. You must be exhausted."

"I don't need rest."

David frowned at him and sighed. "Okay, then I guess my sister has to wait for her brother a little more."

"No, you can go."

"But you aren't going to rest, so I can't simply do it. You might find troubles."

"I believe I've been just fine during all this time before meeting you."

"Well, but now is now. And you are paying me"

"I can stop doing it during your rest if that makes you feel better"

David chuckled. "You're an ass"

Malachi gave him a kind smile, probably one of the rarest ones he used to do. "So?"

"I won't go anywhere if you take no rest"

Malachi rolled his eyes. "Very well, I'll do"

For a moment Malachi had forgotten that they were two different individuals. Being with someone else was starting to feel natural. Almost desirable. Maybe all that nonsense of duals, of savants and warriors was reaching ridiculous but unconscious levels in his mind. Malachi sighed, drinking his tea. There was a time when he used to feel so dead on the inside and sure of his non-life.

He missed that comfortable emotion, that lack of fear for losing something.

He had to blame FITA.

* * *

 

He stretched his arms when he got off the bus in front of the house. It had all his sister's style: a small garden with hydrangeas, a minimalist lake surrounded by gnome figurines, a dog barking behind the main door, a small rug in the porch with the word _welcome_.

He smiled when he heard his sister's shouts commanding the animal to be quiet. She opened the door, and the dog ran towards David, jumping onto him. David dropped his backpack and embraced the crazy dog.

"Look who has a good memory of me" he said, while the dog licked his face and neck frantically.

Joan approached him and after waiting for him to put the dog in the ground, hugged him tightly. It was a silent, long, deep embrace. It had been almost a decade since the last time they looked at each other without computers and screens between them.

 

David threw his backpack on the sofa and followed his sister to the kitchen caressing the dog's head every time the animal demanded attention. Once there, Joan put water in the kettle and observed her brother as if he were not real. She caressed his face, noting the broad jaw, so unlike to the one in his late teen; his hair was now rigid, so military-stylish; and his shoulders were so bulky that she had to hit softly at them, to be sure they were not made of stone. "Wow. You changed a lot. You look so strong."

He let a laugh escape. "I am. What about you? How things were going here?".

"Coffee?" He nodded, "pretty normal. My husband is working for a computer company."

"Now I see where you have this house from." He looked around. It was bigger than the one in Indiana, where both of them had grown up.

"I know right. But I have nothing to talk about. You already know all of that. How are you, David? It's been so long since the last time I saw you. Personally. And also since the last time we talked through Skype. I was so worried about you.”

“I know".

"You are not going to return, right?"

He nodded, "I left the army."

She stopped her movement and looked at him with a broad smile, "That's much better. I was all the time worried about you, living in a dangerous country to another."

"I couldn't return to Afghanistan. Not after... you know. I was deployed in Colombia then, training their armies to..." he lowered his look "...reduce protesters. Everything is going to hell." he surrounded his mug of coffee with both hands and caressed its border with the tip of his finger.

She put her hand on David's forearm and squeezed it. He needed to vent. Over time, she had seen him more and more disappointed with what he had thought during all his life it was a mission worth dying. Disillusionment could destroy a person's soul, it could put a person in an empty point, in a place where starting again was too hard to bear. Especially if that person had nothing else but that mission.

"I wanted to serve, to protect. I studied hard, I trained myself even harder. For nothing. Just a tool for political purposes. Helping people?. That was never in their plans. And even worse, I helped destroying countries."

"You were always a pawn, don't blame yourself.".

"How not to?. I was so blind..."

She hugged him. "You know you can talk with me whenever you want."

"Nah. It's okay. It's always the same. Dead won't come back. Mistakes won't be undone." he smiled, in an attempt to reassure his sister, but she could see the sadness beyond his eyes.

She patted him, sitting beside him. “So, what are you up to now?”

He sipped, changing the dark expression of his face for a gentle one. “I'm working for a man who has an antique store.”

“Quite odd job for an ex-soldier.”

"Not at all. He is all the time running into problems. Needs a bodyguard.”

“Mn, take care. Now it's not Afghanistan, but mafia”.

“Haha, don't worry. The most dangerous thing we faced has been...“ he stopped his words, knowing that any detail of an underground maze full of water in middle of a desert was not going to provide his sister restful nights. He preferred to switch topic. “Well. You can't compare. Anyway, how is Dad? Mom?”

Both remained silent for a couple of seconds, drinking the coffee slowly until she finally spoke, “They are fine.”

“Nothing has changed, right? They... don't want to think about it?”

She sighed. “You know them. Too-” she interrupted her own words, trying to find the exact concept.

“-conservatives, I know.” David completed the sentence.

She looked aside, “If only you wouldn't have done _that._ If you could have left everything there.... They were forgetting the issue after you were part of the army... but when you got married-”

“I had to, you know... I was the only one who wanted to take some kind of responsibility. Everyone else just didn't care. It was not like a bag that you can throw at the sea and forget.... that's awful. It was a person... a wonderful one.” David's eyes were teary.

“I know... it's just... “

“Let's face it." David sighed, "They will never forgive me unless I perform the show of the perfect son. Being decent is not enough for them, you see. But... " he smiled, concealing a sudden sadness, "This is not new. They hate me since college, when I said that I had enough. I've lived with that all my life. It's okay. What I did three years ago was not going to change anything, anyway. It was not going to fix that, or to make it worse. It was not going to change how they think.”.

She looked at him and squeezed his forearm, approaching him. "I guess you're right."

Forehead against forehead, they remained there in silence.

* * *

 

_The abbey was quiet. Maybe too quiet._

_People in the Hill had died defending those lands, giving their lives to the sacred symbol that such big old building made of stones represented. The House where the Only One Lord used to give shelter to their most dedicated pupils. A shelter that seemed weak in those days._

_Guided by Pagan Mysticism, the heretics kept assaulting the place every year. They wanted to destroy the Lord and His knowledge and secrets hidden in the depths of the building. They claimed that such brutal force was needed in order to stop a disastrous prophecy to come, which would endanger the world itself. Foolish ignorants._

_Thankfully their darkest, twisted desires kept failing, and year after year they had to return to their lair with their tail between the legs to plot the next attack. The damage never reached beyond the Abbey's walls. However, the towns around it were another landscape. They always endured the worse._

_Several Templars had defended the divine symbol of the building and perished in doing so. Five Templars were lost performing their sacred duty, and more were still fighting the furious mobs in the peripheral zone of the lands. The King was not going to be pleased with the loss, but not because he was concerned about the well-being of his knights. It simply was because the King hated to lose. The old man could not care less about those lands; he never visited them, and they were only pronounced once in a while, in times of coronation, when the abbot's words were of great importance.  
_

_The Abbot sighed and sat in front of his desk. He still had work to do, thousands of words to be copied in new manuscripts for other abbeys, but he could only observe the white paper sheet, the ink-less feather laid on it, and the tiny flame of the candle flickering at the same rhythm of his hesitation._

_To know that, somewhere close that abbey, his knight could be dying snatched any will of work. He could only focus on his knight's image, back and forth appearing in his mind._

_The fear to lose St. Armand had grown lately. It was a shame. The Nature of such fear was impossible for him to understand. The blur of his image, followed by a burning desire used to paralyse him. To think he could fall so deep, so low, so sinful was out of question. He always preferred to simple wipe the thoughts out._

_But this time it was particularly hard, considering that at any moment, he would receive the news that the recently found lifeless body of a Templar outside was St. Armand's._

_He put the sheet of paper aside, folded his hands, and prayed._

 

_In thy name, My Lord, I asketh thou forgiveness, and prithee doth not did put any punishment towards me on him. Keepeth him safe. His gentle nature hath nay match in these times._

* * *

 

After returning from Ohio, David passed by the antique store. As usual, he found Gretchen working on her tablet, checking new clients and organizing what he guessed as a list of future appraisals for Malachi to do. She looked at him when he entered and raised an eyebrow.

"Uhm... Hello. It's been a while." David said.

Gretchen sighed, her fingers sliding on her tablet. "Indeed. How did your days off go?."

"Pretty nice. Relaxing, I guess."

"Next time, bring Malachi with you."

David scratched the back of his head. "Uh. Let me guess. He didn't take a rest?. I told him to do it."

She sighed again. "He's been more stressed than usual. I'm not sure, but probably his lack of security worsened his anxiety" her tone was everything but casual. "He had to spend a whole day unconscious at the hospital. Of course, he had to return to work as soon as he awoke. Damned man."

“What happened to him?”

“He simply blacked out one day. Doctors said it was stress. I don't know. He keeps taking those pills as if they were candy.”

David looked down, worried. “Where is he now?”

“In his apartment. I guess. If we are lucky, he is probably resting. Finally.”

 

Knowing the news, David left the store and went straight to the apartment. He really needed to talk with Malachi about this. However, he had no time for anything but to drop his backpack at the entrance and run upstairs when he heard a scream.

Malachi was in the stair-landing, heavily breathing, convulsing worse than ever. David embraced him, pushing his forehead to check inside his mouth. At least his tongue was not rolled against his throat, so David simply stayed there, sat in a stair-step, squeezing the man in his arms.

After a couple of minutes, Malachi opened his eyes, and looked at the man, frowning in confusion.

"Hey". David said in his softest tone.

“Where... Where am I?”

“Your apartment. I think you got another episode of those.”

“Indeed. I couldn't reach the rings...”, Malachi lifted himself a bit, pressing his temple, "I thought you were on vacations."

"I was thinking the same about you." David said in a scolding tone.

Slowly, Malachi stood up with clumsy movements and, helped by David, reached his room. David left him resting on his bed and returned to the kitchen. He took his backpack with the intention to put it in the spare room, but he found a surprise when he opened its door. The room had been reduced to half its previous size, and now a new wall was placed in middle. The gym elements were still there, arranged in a less spacious way. Curious, David went out of the room and looked at the outside wall. There was a new door beside the one that had always been there. He opened it. It led to a real room, with a big, comfortable bed, a small desk, a big closet, and a night-stand, all of them in a modern minimalistic design, in beige tones that relaxed him. This was his new room, clearly. Much better than the spare room.

He threw his backpack onto the bed, and headed to the bathroom to take a shower before preparing an invigorating dinner. Probably, Malachi had been neglecting his meals during his absence.

 

 

Chicken with two sauces and crusty potatoes were ready when he listened Malachi's steps. The man had wet hair, and was wearing a bathrobe, grabbing his head with a hand while slowly stepping down the stairs.

"Mr. Rector..." David said softly, unconsciously.

"I told you not to call me that way." Malachi's voice was dull, probably he tried to sound bossy, but the weakness was too much for him to deal with.

"Sorry. The habit." David smiled, observing the man’s movements in detail. He awaited him to reach the kitchen counter and to sit there. Only then, David put the meal into the oven and sat in front of the man, on the other side of the counter.

“So… how was your sister?” Malachi looked at the marble counter, moving his fingers on its surface.

“Fine. We got a lot to catch up.”

“I see. Had it been a long time since the last time you saw her?”

“Three years, briefly. Before that, more or less ten years.”

“Quite long.” He looked up, just to find David's scowl, silent but pressing. “I’ve made some changes in the spare room”

“I saw”.

“Hope it’s of your liking… considering-”

“I thought we were going to have some rest.” David threw the dishcloth on the kitchen counter, not too violent but just enough to make a statement.

“I guess we had. “

“You didn’t rest. You told me you were going to.”

Malachi frowned. “What I do with my life is none of your concern, you must-”

David fixated his eyes on him, but this time, not in a friendly way. His frown was deeper than usual, and that fearsome aura that surrounds most militia members came out of nowhere to emphasise his gesture. It was so intense and scary, that Malachi cut his words midway. The man did not avert his look, not even for a second. Instead, it was Malachi who, nervous, simply looked down. He was feeling the pressure of the silence like never had.

“I’ve talked with Gretchen. She told me you didn’t take a rest. And you had passed out few days ago due to exhaustion, I guess.”

Malachi looked at his own hands, resting in the marble of the counter. “Please, David.”

He blinked. The name had broken any attempt of being intimidating. It simply made it gone. David sighed and went to check the meal in the oven, giving some time for both of them. It seemed that everything was weirder than ever, despite all what they had passed through in Qatar.

He cut the chicken, placed several potatoes in each plate, and poured the sauces all over them. The delicious smell filled the apartment. David put the dish in front of them, and sat ready to eat.

 

_Stay back. Stay Back._

 

“It was not exhaustion...” Malachi cut the chicken and ate it slowly, knowing he had all the man’s attention. “the visions, they are getting worse. The panic attacks as well. If I'm idle... the visions come more often. The aspirins are not working any longer.”

“Why?”

“I wish I knew.”

David looked at him, this time letting his voice to transmite his gentleness. “Did you go to a Doctor?”

“And tell them that I’m capable of peering through a person’s life patterns and know who they are representing this time?. I think you understand why I will never ever do such a thing. I don’t want to be secluded as a madman.”

David chuckled. “Well, putting it in that way… I guess not.”

“Please, could we talk about a more pleasant topic?. I’ve passed through a rough week, and to be honest... you are a sight for sore eyes. Don't ruin it. At least for today.”

David chuckled in something that almost felt like a giggle. “Well, okay. Let’s change the topic, but we will need to talk about this in another time, right?”

“Fine.”

“Promise?” David insisted.

Malachi rolled his eyes, “Of course. Promise”.

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes until Malachi finally spoke, “So... changing topic, and about this long time you didn't see your sister... I was curious about something.”

“Uh?” David looked up unable to guess what to expect.

Malachi cut his meal and ate taking his time. He enjoyed to build suspense. It had a special effect on weak physiques. “When we met for the first time… you said you were depressed.”

David frowned, looking from a side to another in an effort to remember. “Did I say that?”

“In other words.”

David chewed, keeping his frown deep. “Really?”

Malachi cleared his throat. “Literally: You were a broken human being.”

“Oh...” David looked down and fall silent. “We are not going there, are we?”

Both of them made a long eye contact, expecting the other to give up first. The silence was there, generating that suspense that Malachi was too skilful to apply. He finally spoke, “You were bugging me about the resting, so I guess you should give me an example of how to talk about tough things” Malachi smiled in his devilish way.

“Ugh.” David sighed, rolled his eyes, and put the cutlery aside the plate, without finishing the meal. Malachi did not miss all the extra information that the man’s body was giving him. A slight tic in his eye, the sudden stiffness in his hands, the swallowing. That was a really tough topic for the ex soldier. And Malachi was curious by nature, so he can only exploit the situation to know further. What could put in this state of mind a man that had spent ten years of his life in the Army?.

“I would like to know a bit of your past, if that’s not… something you would resent”. Malachi insisted. That was how he took advantage of those small cracks that long silences cause in people.

David drank a bit of his beer and cleaned his lips. “I’m trying to put all that behind me. Of course talking about that will resent me...”

“May you share with me as much as you desire?”. Small layers of pressure, and pressure, and pressure.

“If it were for me, for what I want, I would say nothing. Man, I spent years of my life in the Army, thinking that was a way to serve, to protect people. It turned out I was part of the USA army. Can you get it?”

“Is it so bad?”

“It is. Most countries have an Army to “ _defend_ ” their autonomy… which is to repress inner protests. We?. We have an army to do _that_ , to _teach_ to do that, and to _invade_. Tell me where “ _protecting_ ” and “ _serving_ ” are part of the plan?. Well, clearly it's not the people we were serving.”

“But Army serves to bring peace in conflicted zones.” Malachi ate a bit more of his meal.

David forced a laugher. “A conflict fed by our government. Tell me Mr-…. Kye. Tell me, if I punch you in the face now, and then I run to look for doctors… would you call me your caregiver?. Would you feel me as your protector?”

Malachi squinted. “Situations are quite more complex than that...”

“Sure, and we make sure that they will remain as messy as possible too.”

Silence.

Malachi finished his meal. It was delicious, but it was hard to say it when the man at his front was lost in his own thoughts. He touched David’s forearm, just for a moment, and after an awkward eye contact, David crossed his arms and leant his weight on the kitchen counter, sighing but letting him know he was ready to keep talking. David was giving him quite an example of intimate honesty. He almost felt bad for having tried to hide his lack of rest early on the evening. Almost, though.

“So, you were broken back then for this?. For a kind of professional and moral crisis.”

“Part of it. You could say that.” David looked down, ashamed. “It’s pretty much the general... picture.”

“I assume you passed through tough moments.” Pressure hidden in subtle pokes.

“Man… I was deployed in Afghanistan. Nine years. I… I was… I started with… man.”

Malachi looked at him getting worried about how the calm David was getting cracked, exposing something weak, something agitated under his usual self. David rubbed his face, covering his eyes with both hands, and with a muffled voice he added, “Abu Ghraib... I-I...I can't... I can’t say more.”

Malachi raised his eyebrows, surprised. “you.. you were part of it?”

“NO!” David jumped from the kitchen stool which fell on the ground. His fingers were nailed against the marble of the counter, turning whiter over time. “No. no, no. No. I was not part of it. No. I didn’t want to. I saw them, tho. And I couldn't... I-I-..." David let his head hang between his arms, hiding from Malachi's eyes, while all his weight was on his hands nailing the marble of the counter. His eyes were tight close, and some flashbacks and scraps of memories hit him while his words rambled aimlessly. "I yelled at them. No, no. I told them to stop, but a lieutenant can't do shit...No... they were laughing.. I told to my superiors, and I was punished… they were just laughing. Sickening. I failed you so much... Ammar.”

So many layers of thin pressure had cracked the man. Malachi regretted his action. Now, he only could see how the man was fighting his own memories as some bitter tears ran through his cheeks.

Honestly, Malachi never had much sympathy for USA soldiers. After all, they were usually who could choose their fate and train for years before facing war times. On the other hand, those who were victims of them, the civilians that had to face all the horrors of the war, and all the twisted behaviours of the soldiers, were the real martyrs. They never had the choice for avoiding the brutal experience of the war.Still yet, the man broken at his front was David, a human being that, like most veterans, had their scars deep inside, hard to guess until pulling certain strings. And he could not avoid the fact that such man was David. It was David from all the veterans in the world. It was David from all the naive pawns. It was David from all those thirsty of power.

Malachi was not good at offering comfort, but he gave a try anyway. He stood up and rounded the kitchen counter to put a hand on David's back.

Embarrassed, or maybe tired, David kept hiding his face from Malachi, covering his eyes with his hand, looking down, avoiding him, until his tears stopped.

“I know it must sound a foolish question... but, are you okay?” Malachi said.

David tried to chuckle despite the knot in his throat , “Yeah, it's silly.”

 

* * *

 

_There were few gifts in the world that he could love more. Spring was one of them. Reading a book under the blessed sunbeams was another. And he was enjoying both at the same time._

_He observed the knight sat by his side, who was silently enjoying the colourful garden of the Abbey. He was not in his usual armour, but in a leather one, lighter and more useful when staying indoors._

_His long hair had a graceful movement thanks the breeze, and its golden colour was highlighted by the sun itself._

_He sighed, taking his look apart from that beautiful creature._

_His desires were not appropriated for an abbot. He smiled instead of remembering the words of the Sacred Book about sins and pleasures. Thankfully, St. Armand was alive, enjoying life in a calm corner of the world. And not in any corner, but in a corner close to him. In his garden. In his times. In this life._

_If this was not a miracle..._

 

_Thanks Lord._

* * *

 

That morning was one of the rarest ones. He did not dream about anything that could agitate his mind, as it usually did. Instead, it had been a restful night and the fading memory of a colourful garden in spring was all what remained in his consciousness.

He went to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast. It was also rare for him to do so. His routine was to get up and walk to the nearest cafe to order his breakfast, but now it seemed right to try something at home.

It was seven o'clock when he heard the shower in the bathroom close to the spare room. He smiled and put more emphasis in the breakfast. He wanted to give a nice surprise to David.

The kettle was full and taking its time to boil, the bread was on the toaster, the jam already open in the kitchen counter with a couple of butter knives.

When the kettle was ready, Malachi tried to pour the hot water into a porcelain teapot with his blend tea, but its weight with so much water made his wrist twist. The kettle fell from his hand, rolled over the marble counter and pushed the china teapot which fell on the ground breaking asunder.

Almost immediately, David ran out from the bathroom, soaked and full of soap, barely grabbing a towel around his waist. He stopped in middle of his run when he saw Malachi as surprised as him looking at him up and down.

"I'm okay, David. False alarm. It simply fell.”

The man looked at the ground which was now a mess of porcelain pieces everywhere. Only then he realised he soaked the parquet. He lifted a foot, observing the drip of water. “Argh, damn, sorry."

"It's okay. Don't worry. I appreciate your concern" Malachi said with a calm voice, “better go back and resume your shower. Be careful with the pieces of porcelain.”

David turned on his heels and went back to the bathroom.

Malachi took a broom and a shovel, and cleaned the kitchen the best he could. He would call the company that cleaned his home everyday to inform the problem later. He certainly could not care less about the teapot or the cleaning company. His main focus had switched over David. In that accidental glimpse of David's half naked body, Malachi had spotted a tattoo on his left rib, under his pectoral. It was an Arabic word. A symbol that remained in his mind during the whole morning. It made him wonder if all that moral crisis of the ex soldier was not related to that symbol.

The idea did not take much time to get fixated. Had David ever considered to betray the USA army?. Could have he turned into a Taliban agent just to atone USA army's crimes?. What if...

He stopped. He did not want to keep adding more possibilities and speculations... even though double agents were not rare, after all.

The thought went deeper. Uncomfortably deeper.

What if David was just a ticking bomb under a gentle surface?.

He frowned at his own thoughts. That was too much. That had to be too much.

Besides, St. Armand had never done something remotely similar to that... but he, certainly, had lost faith in his previous mission.

Maybe it was just the pattern taking a new shape on this modern times. Maybe not.

Either way, the thought was deeply disturbing.

* * *

 

_He put the old feather's tip in the vessel and revolved the ink several times. It was hard to understand the pattern of life, but it was even harder to deny it. Therefore, the natural question arose immediately: what were we but pieces played by an unknown harmful entity?. Could it be God?. But how could such perfect being play with his own creatures?. With what end? Where was the free will that was supposed to be part of all his creations?. How could God be so cruel using everyone as a mere chess piece?._

_The ink fell all over his manuscript._

“ _What hast I done?” He said, standing up all of the sudden, trying to reduce the harm that the ink had already done on the sheet of paper._

“ _Lord, doth thou needeth mine assistance?” The knight left his vigilance at the entrance of the room and walked solemnly toward the abbot._

“ _Worry not. T'is only the result of a doubt which assaulted me”. The knight observed the manuscript completely wasted. “Mine dere, hath thy heart never embraced such a doubt which did maketh thy pulse tremble?”_

“ _Nay, mine Lord. God is, at each moment, guiding me. Mine pulse is stronger due to him”._

_The abbot observed the knight, lost for a moment in his beauty, in his sublime honour, in that perfect loyalty. Such a virtuous man. So much purity. He looked down at his own manuscript and hesitated. What was happening with his faith?. With his own discipline?. He put every sinful thought aside and finally spoke, hurt. “I wish to be guided”_

* * *

 

 

David observed the room. If it was impressive from the outside, the inside was beyond any guess. He sighed a bit annoyed. The man owner of such obscene mansion was the biggest shareholder of Finmeccanica Co., one of the most famous corporations of war technology and defence devices. David knew the brand pretty well. Men like him were always at both sides of the conflict, just wondering when to sell the best element to the most desperate buyer. It was the best way to keep a war going on, alike his sales.

Duty, honour, or compassion were words that were not part of those men's dictionary. Only profit guided them. They did not need anything else in times of war.

"Yes, I'll check that supposed antique china jar. But please do not have your hopes high. They are quite rare, most of them ended in museums." Malachi said giving a handshake to the man, but as soon as he touched his hand, dizziness and violent images assaulted him suddenly, and unable to control them his knees failed.

The billionaire man observed him with surprise, leaving his hand in the air.

"Has he got something contagious?" He asked shamelessly to David, who was already holding Malachi on the ground frowning with anger at the man.

"No, sir. It's just exhaustion."

Malachi grabbed David's arm and allowed him to push him up. "My apologies. I've been sleep-deprived for many days. So that it has consequences."

The man observed them for a second, “Very well. Please, call me when you get your opinion on what we have already discussed. Have a good day.” He said and left the room. There was nothing else to discuss.

 

David helped Malachi to reach the car, and after a short argument about how nonsensical was to allow him to drive after an almost black-out, he forced him to sit in the copilot. David used the keys and turned the car engine on. It had been enough work for today.

"What happened? A vision?" David said looking backwards, struggling with the distance. He was accustomed to the big jeeps of the Army. Civil cars were too small and too delicate as well.

"I've seen the pattern of that man. My head. I wish this could stop." Malachi rubbed his temples.

"A nasty someone, uh?"

"Mussolini."

David wrinkled his nose. "What the fuck. I thought his pattern would include some political shit."

"It seems that being businessman is enough to be politician these days."

David stopped the car and looked at Malachi who was still rubbing his forehead, trying to calm the headache. "Tell me we are not going to do what he wants."

"So far, we will. There is nothing wrong with this appraisal. It's just a jar. For a personal collection. He won't kill in mass with it."

David sighed in disapproval and looked at the steering wheel silently.

"Sharing a life pattern doesn't make you _be_ that life." Malachi insisted, not sure if that was what he really wanted to say. In fact, he was not completely convinced that such theory could make sense hundred percent. Hell, at that moment, with such headache, he was not sure about his own words or thought either.

"Sure. Whatever." He said and turned the engine on once again, driving back home.

Suddenly, Malachi's mobile rang, and he picked the call with annoyance. "I've told you not to contact me anymore. I've had enough. My headaches are not worth the work." The man kept silent for a moment, until he frowned and pressed his temple. "-fine. Let us consider the offer. I'll call you back if I'm interested."

David gave him a glimpse before putting his attention on the road again. "Problems?"

"Quite. FITA."

David sighed aloud. "I thought we were done with them. I don't want to risk you with a serious aneurysm."

Malachi smiled. That had hit a tender spot, somewhere. "They told me that they were going to pay us four times more than before. And it is meant to protect innocent people. I think the last part was said just to convincing you."

David twitched his mouth. "Like before. I guess. Still too risky. And still yet, good people died. Besides, it's me or your perception is getting stronger, and you have been getting exhausted more easily lately?".

They did not say anything else, and the topic dropped there.

 

 

At night they had dinner at the flat. It was turning into a habit. Maybe it was due to the familiarity that was blooming between them, but more than ever Malachi enjoyed his meals at home, sharing them with the other man.

As usual, they ate at the kitchen counter and drank some whisky in the living room with low lights, appreciating the urban landscape offered through the windows. The random lights of the city came in and out from the place, adding an evanescent atmosphere while minutes passed by and the alcohol smoothed their moods.

"You didn't call those assholes" David said, putting his empty glass in the small, long table. He was sat beside Malachi, close enough to feel his shoulder against his.

“I still didn't make my mind. The offer is quite interesting.“

“Money is useless if you are dead, or in coma”, David looked down.

Malachi drank a bit more from his glass, crossed his legs, and looked through the windows. Far down, the noise of the streets reached them in a muffled way. "Fair enough. Still yet, I'm.. curious. I feel strange about the whole FITA thing. I'm not sure if such thing should exist. And how many illegal things has it done already. Stalking on everyone's lives... that's a really bad habit."

David chuckled. "I got bad news for you then. It's not the first governmental agency doing nasty things against the civilians.”

“Sure, I know. That's why I like it less. More dark control on us. I wonder when they will stop. They want to have access to our brain itself.”

David looked down at his own hands, resting in his lap. They were so dirty that he was always looking for different ways to clean them. “I know right”. They kept in silence until David spoke again. “So, do you want to be part of them to change things?. To stop something that could turn into something worse?.”

“Oh. Please. Don't get me wrong. My main reason is curiosity. I know enough of the world to understand that it doesn't change unless there are economical profits in the process.”

David blinked, “That's not to assume too much?”

“Every right earned by any individual... every right lost, it was always allowed in the name of certain profit. History didn't happen by idealism.”

David frowned, annoyed by the thought. History had prove to be as complex as humankind, and the list of example of historical events pulled out of plain idealism were as large as those that were only a result for better profits. But explaining this meant to argue, and the alcohol tended to smooth his tongue so he remained silent. He needed his mind sharp for arguments, not slightly softened as now. Besides, it was Malachi, the one who was always in the habit of expressing an adverse opinion. It was a pain in the ass.

“So, you'll never do something just to try to change things?. To improve this world?.” He sounded disappointed, but he knew this was not new. It was not as if some idealization about Malachi could fall apart.

Malachi chuckled. “I'm not so naive”. He stood up and brought another whisky bottle. He poured it in his glass and offered it more to David who declined. The ex-soldier simply looked down.

Malachi drank the whole glass. He felt his head a bit light, and in normal circumstances, he would have stopped drinking immediately, disliking the slight sensation of losing control. But here, he was fine. It was his apartment, and it was David; he could indulge himself a bit.

He put the empty glass in the table and sat beside David, inclined to him, resting his arm all over David's backrest. His body language had to be clear, Malachi assumed.

Those details that sometimes went back and forth in his mind appeared in that moment. It had been almost a year, and David was more or less in the same situation since he met him. Nothing had changed in his life. As time passed by, Malachi had discovered small, irrelevant details that made him wonder. It was said that the truth spoke loudly in the smallest gestures of a person. If that was the case, David had been speaking for a whole year.

The strange way he used to flee about certain topics, the unusual enjoyment of solitude that he had, the permanent avoidance of flirting with beautiful women. Of course, there were several explanations for such habits. Shyness was one of them, but it seemed inadequate... Malachi was sure about the answer, so he would explore it. In that exact moment.

 

_Stay back. Stay Back._

 

“It's been a while since you accommodate yourself here.....”

David looked at him, taking a sip of whisky. “Time to move out?”

“Oh, please, no. I like to have you around. _A lot._ ” He said suggestively, but it seemed that David did not get it. He kept drinking from his glass. “Once, you told me that you didn't get a girlfriend because you never spent too much time in one place. I guess that your movement state has changed since you started working here.”

David drank the whole glass at once and chuckled. “Oh, no. Don't tell me you are going to present me someone”. He knew it was not the wisest idea, but he took the bottle and poured a bit more in his empty glass. “God, please. Don't start sounding like my parents.”

“I see.” Malachi said smirking. He was right. Of course he was; when was it otherwise?. He had always excelled at guessing people's desires in every detail. He looked straight at David and caressed his forearm with the tip of his fingers. “Let me assume something else here.” He whispered.

_Stay back. Stay Back._

David kept the eye contact while taking another sip. “What do you mean?”

Malachi took David's empty glass and put it aside, sitting astride on David's lap. He delineated David's jaw with his fingers and smirked. “I mean something like this.”

David swallowed loudly. “Wow... well...Who could imagine you were so-”

“-straightforward?”

“Hot, actually”. David giggled involuntarily.

Malachi chuckled. His hands slid down, rubbing David's chest, perceiving the muscled torso of an ex-soldier. “So, may I assume that such lack of rejection is a positive answer?.”

“Mn, depending on what you ask.”

Now, the big boy was playing. “Do you know what you need?. And probably since long time ago?”

David rolled his eyes but still yet he bit it, “I guess you keep assuming too much.”

“We'll see. Tell me, when was the last time you had an invigorating night?”

David's smirk disappeared, his body tensed all of the sudden and kept silence. His face had changed. It was as if sadness simply darkened his features. That was a strange answer, but an answer nonetheless.

“I thought so. Indulging yourself once in a while is not bad.” Malachi said unbuttoning David's polo shirt.

“It's not so easy.”

“For a man like you. Hardly it is not. Let me show you.” Malachi whispered and then, he simply devoured his lips. It was not a gentle gesture. There was some rough, animal instinct in doing so. It was the way he liked it.

Malachi put his claws in that man's shoulders and tightened the contact. He immediately felt the response in David's hands, which surrounded his waist, sneaking inside the shirt and caressing his bare skin, all along his spine. Some kind of resistance was perceived in the kiss soon after, but it was not a rejection exactly. Maybe it had been a memory. Maybe Malachi had attacked him too harsh. It did not matter, the whole game was just a mere bait to awake the beast that had to be slumber in David's soul. Deep inside. Because Malachi knew it, he was not wrong. Everyone had a beast on the inside, and that night he was more than eager to offer himself as a prey. He really needed this.

 

_Stay back. Stay Back!._

 

Malachi stopped all of the sudden and breathed heavily. Such a foolish prey he was. He could not blame himself, it was in his blood.

It was good that some level of lust was still taking over his mind, so that he could ignore that voice easily. He stood up and took David's hands, pulling him to his room upstairs. In silence, he laid on his bed and waited for David to react.

He desperately needed to be a prey.

After a some seconds of hesitation, David bend over him and kept kissing him. His lips, his throat, his torso. The more he kissed him, the more unbuttoning of his shirt, and his hands could caress his skin.

Malachi smirked among groans. The anticipation was killing him.

He wanted a rough start, so he halted David's caring gestures and unfastened his belt.

Depredator and prey were not gentle. They did not have to be. They were stuck in a battle for survival. A violent, aggressive, endless fight.

 

_Stay back. Stay Back._

 

He wanted things raw, without mercy, without anything else but instinct. Ah, but of course, he had almost forgotten, so blind in expectation and lust and alcohol.

“Just... just something before continuing...” Malachi whispered in moans.

David exhaled, recovering from the shock of lust and heat he had experienced, “Protection? I don't have any... tell me you have?”

Malachi snorted. “Don't worry about that, I have it. I need... It's about a rule I have... just one. You need to know just before... continuing.“

David stopped his hands that were fidgeting Malachi's belt, and looked at him. He remembered Gretchen's warning. Damn shit. “Mn?”

“Just one night. Am I clear?. Only fun. Once.”

David frowned. “You mean-”

“We'll never repeat this again...”

Recovering the mood, Malachi lifted David t-shirt. However, the man did not helped him with his arms, and stayed there, observing him in silence. Probably he was expecting more conversation, or he was simply processing what he had just heard. After a moment, David simply put Malachi's hands apart and sat aside. “I'm sorry... I can't.”

Malachi raised his eyebrows. “What?”. This was the first time someone rejected him at this point. Nobody used to care about a night. Maybe the next week it would turn into an annouyance, but nobody cared in that exact night. It was the spur of the moment, the promise of a satisfying night. Who could deny themselves such pleasures?. But this?. This was unbelievable for him. He looked at David, deeply surprised. Had he perceibed the man wrongly?.

“Sorry. I'm not into casual nights... I'll let you sleep”. David arranged his belt and t-shirt and stepped to the door.

Malachi lifted his body on his elbows, exposing his slender figure as the open shirt fell below his shoulders.“Wait. Are you serious?. Are you going to leave in middle of this?”

“Yeah, I am serious. I told you, you were assuming too much.” David rested his hand on the door handle, opening it slightly.

“But... why?.”

David turned a bit and looked at the man with a smirk in his face, “Wow, nobody said no to your rule before? Am I your first one?, I'm honoured.” he laughed softly.

“I thought you were gay.”

David's smile disappeared, he exhaled a bit annoyed and rolled his eyes. “I'm going to pretend that I didn't heard that. If you want the reason... I've told you already, I don't like one-night stand. That's all.”

“So, you have sex only if you can get something else in exchange?”

"What?"

"If you look for more than just pleasure... then, what do you want? a car? an apartment?"

David shook slowly his head and rubbed his eyes. Clearly the alcohol had clouded someone else's mind as well. He left the room closing the door hard. Malachi had an unbelievable ability for offending people. Indeed.

 

Malachi fell on the mattress and rubbed his face, realising that his head, indeed, felt lighter than usual. The whisky had its effects on him still. However, he was determined not to waste that night alone in that bed. He had already pictured himself enjoying the pleasure of a savage night, delighted by the submission inherent to a prey. He did not want to ruin his mood. He wanted to get what he fancied. So he wore his suit and left the apartment.

Lions were everywhere.

He could visit that client that a couple of months ago had shown his intentions quite clearly. There had been promises of rough style and uncontrollable lust that could drown that little scream in the back of his head easily, and satisfy his whims in the process

There was nothing more to do or say. Today, he needed to be the prey.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Everyone has an inner Lion.

Everyone has suffered one.

Whether we like it or not, we all have one inside. It is a rule.

An unspoken rule of the several ones that the world has.

 

The lion is there, is here.

He closes his eyes and he can see it.

 

The lion is there, in the other man's body, who wrapped him violently, who reduced him to just a state of obedience as long as the pleasure lasted, burning his desires in his own skin, marking him as impure, as prey, as someone that must be devoured, eventually. A creature that must never be kissed but bitten.

 

The lion is here, in his own body, when he wraps her violently, when her desire leads her to her own perdition, when he reduces her to a state of defenceless delight assaulted by lust, and he marks her as impure, as a prey, as someone that will be eaten, eventually. Because the Lion in himself does not kiss but eats, and follows rules that burn its preys alive.

 

Lions are everywhere.

In the future, in the present, in the past.

* * *

 

 

David yawned. He stretched his arms when he passed through the store door. He nodded at Gretchen, as a gesture of greeting, and tried to enter Malachi's office, but she stepped forward, blocking his path.

“What have you done?” She whispered.

David squinted at her, then he looked at the office's door, trying to peer through it in order to get some clue. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I thought you cared about Malachi.”

David got uncomfortable not sure how to understand those words. Of course, that weekend had happened something unusual in the apartment, but he was counting on Malachi not to spread a gossip about it. After all, nothing had happened, strictly speaking. “Okay, I'm not getting it... can you give me some details?.”

Gretchen looked aside, thinking in how to put it into words. “So, you didn't hurt him?”

David blinked. “Hurt?, what?”. Jumping to conclusions, he stepped Gretchen aside and walked into the office opening the door without knocking. Startled, Malachi looked at him. The man was in his desk, reading some papers. From the way he moved his body, there was nothing unusual in him. However, observing the man in detail... Malachi's lower lip was damaged, a bit swollen; he had several nasty bites on his skin exposed over the shirt collar, and his wrist had burnt marks.

David raised his eyebrows. “What happened to you? A-Are... Are you okay?”

Malachi frowned, but as soon as he interpreted the question he sighed, “Oh, that. You mean the lip. Don't worry.”

“Are you okay? Someone punched y-?”. Somehow, the familiarity shown that weekend encouraged David to touch Malachi's jaw, getting closer to the wound in order to inspect it.

Uncomfortable, Malachi simply put his head apart and broke the sincere gesture of the man. “Of course not. And this is private.” As soon as he said it, his phone rang. He read the screen and cancelled the call without picking it, continuing with his conversation, “If there is nothing more you want to tell me about work, I would appreciate if you can leave me alone to finish reading these documents for new antiques. Probably in a couple of hours we will have to leave the city to appraise a piece, so stay in touch.”

The phone rang again, but this time, letting out an annoying sigh, Malachi texted something after hanging the call up.

“If you say you are okay...” David looked at Malachi's hands. The wounds were not only in his wrists but also in his fingers.

“Stop doing such a face, I'm okay.” He looked down “I have certain tastes, that's all. Now, please...”

David left the office, not sure if that answer was what he needed to put him at peace or to worry him even more.

On the other side of the door, Gretchen was waiting for him, sharing his same worrisome face. “What happened? Wasn't he in his apartment yesterday?” she whispered close to him.

“No, he left at night. I thought he was going to have some drinks somewhere. I simply went to sleep.”

Gretchen raised an eyebrow. “What a bodyguard.”

David moved his lips as if he was going to say something, but nothing came out from them. He looked down. A bit of guilt crossed his mind, but not much. He knew he was not responsible of Malachi's personal tastes. It was, certainly, not a danger itself. It was always a business that only concerned the partners. Of course it could turn into a problem when the partner was not trustworthy, when it was a casual practise with casual partners, or when things simply went too far. Well. _Now_ he was starting to get really worried about Malachi.

“Why didn't you accompany him?” Gretchen whispered.   
“I-... He didn't want me to accompany him, clearly.”

Gretchen twisted her lips in disapproval. “Are you telling me he is in that condition by his own decision?”. She got the point, still yet, she was annoyed.   
David shrugged. “I guess. I don't know him, not like that. Is he into the rough staff usually?”

Gretchen opened wide her eyes. “Why do you ask me?”

“Well, you slept with him, at least once....”

She scratched her own chin, thinking. “No. No, no. He was not into that. Oh, goodness, now he is trying that kind of thing? With strangers?” she rubbed her face. “You need to watch over him. It's dangerous.”

“Believe me, I'll do all what he allows me to do.”

Gretchen sighed. That was not even a good promise. She, more than anyone, knew how complicated that man was when related to his own safety. It was as if Malachi were all the time looking for pain. She twitched her mouth; maybe that was the only emotion that he could feel. What can you feel when you are made of stone?

 

The rest of the day passed by quietly. As he had been told, hours later David and Malachi went out of the city to check some pieces. They were in such good shape and in such convenient prize that Malachi decided to buy them and to add them to his store. The return was silent, both of them were most of the time lost in their own thoughts.

Only when Malachi left David in their apartment, he finally spoke, “I'll come back later”

David got off of the car, hesitant. He kept the door open. “Are you planning to come for dinner?”

“Yes, I'm just going to look for a piece of information I've asked someone. Stop worrying, David.” Malachi twitched his mouth in annoyance.

David's face was compressed in a gesture of fear. He closed the door and looked at Malachi through the car's window. “Okay. I'll prepare the dinner, then... see you later.”

Malachi nodded and sped up.

* * *

 

 

“I'm glad to see you here”, behind his desk, Dexter opened his arms as a gesture of welcome.

“Don't get too excited. I just-” The mobile rang again. Malachi bit his lower lip a bit angry for the interruption, but he stopped immediately when the pain spread fast all along his cheek. He looked at the screen of his mobile and turned it off. “I just wanted to listen to your offer again. I'm expecting some kind of addition... to be honest.”

“Mn. Interesting. Addition, you say. By the way... may I ask you where Mr. Walker is?”

“No.”

Dexter blinked. “I assume is everything okay between you and him.”

“I don't know. And I think that's none of your business” Malachi's face was immutable.

Dexter raised his palm in gesture of surrender. “Well. Okay. Seems that you are not in a good mood today. But... let me remind you that we are trying to understand this project, so your relationship with Mr. Walker is key. The Savant and the Warrior... are peculiars archetypes that related each other in different ways through centuries.” Malachi's apathetic face disappointed Dexter, “But do as you please. Straight to the business... As you may know, we are looking for some patterns in order to find an economy recovery. We are behind this person now” he said showing to Malachi the photography of a young woman.

Malachi took the picture, squinted at it, and then threw it on the desk. “Sonja Cronje. I know her... in a manner of speaking, of course.”

Dexter's lips curved into a smile. “I imagined so. She has turned into an interesting politician lately.”

“She has always been, since she was too young. I was a kid and I remember her speech during elections. She was a scandal once in a while with her position against the Apartheid.” He chuckled, “more than once put nervous a lot of senators in South Africa.”

“Good to know you are familiar with her. I need you to reach her, and find her pattern.”

Malachi sighed. “I hate to return to my country.”

“As I said, I will reward you four time what we used to.”

Malachi fidgeted the photo while letting the silence generate some kind of suspense that he knew it would affect Dexter. When the stress level was enough, according to the way Dexter was clenching his jaw, he finally spoke, “I have an extra petition.”

Dexter put his elbows in the desk, folded hands, and observed him. “Tell me.”

“I need all the confidential information at your disposal related to Mr. Walker.”

Dexter blinked. “Why such-”

“And this petition is non-negotiable.”

Silence.

Dexter scratched his chin, observing Malachi. All what he could read with this petition was that something negative had happened between them. He even noticed Malachi's wounded lip as a bad symptom. Could it have been the result of a punch?. Maybe it was a good moment to set the red flag on the savant once again. Malachi and David relationship was not secured as they thought, and it could put the whole project in danger. Without a stable Savant, Moebius was destined to fail. “I guess now it makes sense why you didn't bring Mr. Walker. Something bothers you about him?”

“None of your concern.”

Dexter sighed. The Savant was a hell of a man to deal with. “Very well. You added one condition, so I will add another.” he put a paper on his desk and slid it towards Malachi. “ This list has the names of people I want you to check. Find the pattern, and I will give you the complete files”

Dexter was a smart man, Malachi knew it. He took the piece of paper, read the names in silence, and looked at the mature man. Outsmarted him, but at least he still could get those files. “Deal.”

* * *

 

_Stay back, stay back._

She was to blame. Not the Lion.

The Lion was to blame, not her.

But maybe _that man_ was the culprit, the one lost in the maths, forgetting the lion, the wife, the son. That _man_ that never cared for her, so she left _him_ alone. That _man_ that never knew  he had a child crying for her.

Maybe the Lion, in the end, turned into _that man._

 

But these thoughts were too exhausting. Always present, always persistent, always hesitant.

He tried simply to enjoy what he could. To delight the Lion. To fear the Lion. To tempt the Lion.

 

So that he started to moan under the violence of the lion punishing his sins.

So that he started to groan letting the lion control him to punish her sins.

So that he started to love the tempting idea of being devoured, and consumed, and forgotten by the monstrous apathetic Lion living in everyone.

* * *

 

David was still watching the GPS in his mobile. The place was too new for him to move freely as he used to in Manhattan. On the other hand, Malachi simply observed the corners of the streets of Cape Town to update the map he had in his own mind, adding to it only what was new.

“You seem to know pretty well this place” David said. Despite his GPS, he was simply following Malachi through the city, enjoying the smell of sea in the air, the fresh breeze, and the peculiar rhythm of the streets.

“You can say that. I've spent part of my teenage in these coasts; they were my second home apart from Gauteng.”

David smiled. Of course he knew that. That information was in the report he asked to a friend in the government days after being hired by Malachi. It was good to see that, slowly, Malachi was opening up to him, sharing small bits of his past. Nothing new for David, but it felt really good to know that the man was doing it by his own will. “Gauteng?. That's where you come from?”  
“Aham. It's North-east of the country.”

“So, that's why the accent.” David kept smiling.

Malachi looked at him a bit annoyed, but he had to interrupt his gesture when the mobile rang loudly. He looked at the screen and sighed, cancelling the call.

“You were doing that for days. Who is that?”

“Just an annoyance that will stop once it gets bored”. He put his mobile inside his jacket and observed the street. They walked to a particular house.

“Are you in trouble, Kye?”

He chuckled. “Do not worry. Let's see what we got here.” He stopped in front of a big house and rang the doorbell.

A mature woman opened the door. She was Sonja Cronje. She said something in Afrikaans that only Malachi could answer, cracking later into a soft laugh. Probably it had been a joke. As soon as they stopped laughing, she switched to English. “You must be Mr. Malachi. Welcome to my home.” she stepped aside and allowed the guests to enter. She guided them to the living room showing a limping in her walking that David did not miss. Taking a seat in the place, and pouring tea in their china, they shared a brief conversation with her that allowed them to picture her. She was a charismatic woman, a rare good politician not only in a national level but also in a regional one. She was impulsing a strong regional trade agreement that could boost half of Africa countries, and had little to do with USA, Japan, Canada or EU. She knew that those kind of agreements were always in detriment of the poorest countries. But a regional alliance between countries that were more or less at the same level of developtment was another story. She was, certainly, a gem for the region.

 

David remained silent most of the time during the conversation, allowing Malachi to follow her interview. Sonja and Malachi kept switching languages, sometimes without even noticing, sometimes to better express a idea with a single word, sometimes to joke around. Rusty or not, Malachi was still incredible fluent at Afrikaans. Meanwhile, as a good dog trained in the Army, David walked idly around the living room, observing the details. She was highly educated, as he could see with so many diplomas hung on the walls: Majors, degrees, Doctorates, post-docs. They were related to History, philosophy, political sciences, and economy. That woman was prepared to become the hell of a politician, not just a bluffer; if only the system could allowed her to reach a good position. He bet that she would become a real problem for USA if she had too much regional power. And such thought stuck in his mind, echoing.

 

They left before night. Although they already had her personal interview, they remained in the city a couple of days, investigating her environment and her image through the perception of other people: friends, some relatives, the popular opinion in the city. However, the information never seemed enough, because Malachi could not guess any pattern. For him, it was simply a contemporaneous politician. Nor Cesaer, nor Cleopatre, nor Malintzin.

 

That evening they spent the day relaxing a bit in a cafe close to the coast, which had a marvellous view to the sea. It was charming to stay there, hearing the sound of the ocean, feeling that salty breeze in their skin.

They were sat at a small table for two, in a corner far away from the tourist zone. The waiter had just left their orders when David tasted his coffee. It was exceptional. He licked his lips and then looked at Malachi. He still could not understand why that stubborn man had finally accepted to help FITA once again. Although he would have preferred to step aside, he could not simply do it. Not when he had seen Malachi to face dangers so recklessly just to deal with FITA's whims. He simply could not. But he had to find a way to cope with the constant bad hunch beating in the back of his mind.

“I think I'll ask Dexter for some help. I truly need some suggestions” Malachi said browsing in his mobile.

“You don't know?” David said after a sip of coffee.

“No... do you have some suggestions?”

David looked aside, wondering. “Is she the youngest of five children?”

“Yes”

“Married for convenience.”

“We can say that.... “ Malachi frowned.

“Limping due to a childhood ailment?”

“Mn. This means... you have a good guess?”

David ignored the question and crossed his arms, looking up to the sky, “Leftish inclinations?”

“She is a socialist freak. You know the pattern, I can see it. Tell me, David”

David compressed his face in angst and drank his coffee. “I fear if I speak... she will find the same fate...”

“Tell me, please.”

“Luxemburg. Rosa.”

Malachi frowned. “Who?”, then he browsed in his mobile.

David blinked several times then chuckled looking at the sea. “Well, I guess nobody teaches about her all around the world. No wonder.” He sighed, while Malachi kept checking on the Internet in his phone. It rang several times, but he always cancelled the calls and kept browsing.

“Well, it's true. Seems that everything fits. Except for the fact that Sonja is still alive... and …. Oh. I see why you worried about.” Malachi observed a photography of Rosa Luxemburg in his phone, trying to remember something, to connect it with Sonja, to see beyond as he usually was capable of. He did not need to blink twice when he blacked out and fell in the ground convulsing.

 

The first thing he perceived was a constant touch. It was gentle, healing, somewhere in his body. Slowly, that movement awoke his numbed senses and made his consciousness to surface. He awoke in the hotel room with David sat by his side, caressing his head gently with his thumb. The movement that had guided him back to reality.

“Are you okay?” David whispered.

Malachi nodded slowly while sitting in the bed. He pressed his head with both hands. The headache was strong. As usual. He touched his nose with two fingers and thankfully did not find blood.

“I guess that means that it's she.” David continued.

“It seems so....” he sighed. “How did you know how to do the connection?”

David chuckled. “I'm major in military History, remember?. Identifying _commies_ was part of the job.” He said the word with a mocking tone.

“Really? I thought it was all about First and Second World War”

“Well, yeah. Mostly. And _commies_. But I took some particular weird subjects.”

Malachi smirked at David. There was a catch somewhere in that sentence that he could not get completely. "Are you meaning what I think you are meaning?. An ex USA soldier, with communist interests?. The world is crazy."

"I know right", David laughed softly, “So, are you going to tell them who she is? And the other two?”

Yeah, the others. Sonja was only one in the list. Other two had been identified already. Yamagata Kakuo, a Japanese writer living in London, whose pattern was García Lorca's, and the other one was Federica Yasay, a Filipino politician that David had identified as a follower of Jomo Kenyatta's pattern. Both of them historical figures with strong socialist inclinations. Now they had to add Rosa Luxemburg. The common aspects among the patterns worried David.

Malachi took a sip from his tea. “Well, they pay us for this. It's just information all what they want, after all. Besides, considering Mrs.Cronje's age, her disgraceful fate would reach her in ten years... Nothing to worry about for now.” He said looking for Dexter's number in his phone and called him.

David sighed looking at the sea. "I hope you are right"

* * *

 

They still could remain during a couple of days in Cape Town. The place was relaxing, and it had its own charm, completely different to the crazy rhythm of Manhattan. It was also a good place to do something that Malachi had been skipping all this time: to rest.

David tried to convince him for taking a break for two weeks, but he only could arrange a short vacation of a couple of days. At least it was something.

“Let's go to visit where you were born?” David said that morning during the breakfast at the hotel.

“Why would you like to go there?” Malachi put some butter in his toast and ate it, annoyed with David's suggestion. He had enough dealing with all that time they were wasting. It was true that his body was thankful with that forced rest, but they were not tourist. He had neither the time nor the patience to do so. Even more, the small moments of comfort were always destroyed by his mobile ringing several times everyday. He could not stay completely far away from problems and stress, it seemed. More on his favour to avoid such problematic place in his life. It was not relaxing, it was all about painful memories.

Although he tried to put all the resistance he could, in the end, David convinced him to go there, to those solitaire plains. He had promised to him to simply see the place and return to their journey, looking for more patterns in that strange list that Dexter gave them.

 

The helicopter reached quickly the City of Gauteng. The first thing they saw was the coat of arms of the province painted all over the heliport, a symbol that made Malachi clench his teeth. Two lions embracing a pike. Damn beasts.

They rented a car and spent many hours in the route, driving to the most agricultural zones in the north-east of the province. Malachi remembered the place as a dry and boring savannah; but he was surprised to recognize the place as a rural one, with more fields of maize than anything else. It was strange, indeed. could it have changed in less than twenty years?.

“There is not much to see as you can appreciate. It's all this; plains, and plains, and plains, and more plains. Do not forget the plains.” Malachi said while driving.

“Your home was quite far away from the main city. Why?”

“Indeed. I wonder.” He remained silent. The doubt had been there long time ago; it was not new, it had not arisen because David's question. It had been there, in the back of his mind, since he was a child, since the moment he saw that beast. And the more he knew about Moebius project, the more that doubt increased.

 

They arrived to the place.

He got out of the car and walked to that big house in middle of nowhere. The fence was still wrecked, right there where the lion had appeared. He sighed tortuously. He heard those screams once again and the hurting heart-beating in his chest. The lack of breathe while the tears ran across his cheeks. The fear. The despair. And those endless, penetrating screams. _Stay back!_. This had been a bad idea.

“Wow, this place is amazing. What a quiet house.” David said. He walked inside and looked around until he noticed Malachi was still in front of that fence, silent, observing the broken pieces. “Are you okay?”

“My memory kept all this a bit different. I'm not good at dealing with past things. This... house brings me... unpleasant memories that were supposed to be far away in time.”

David observed the fence. “Wanna share?”

“No.”

David crossed his arms. “oh, c'mon...” he remained silent for a couple of minutes, looking around, observing the plain. He knew what had happened there. It was in the report he had secretly had asked to a friend. So he kept on pushing. He wanted that information coming from Malachi's lips “Are there some wild animals around? Usually?”

Malachi looked at him, squinting. “This place is an agricultural zone... so no. Not as wild as a -” He stopped his words. The doubt was impossible to contain any longer, and spread wildly on his mind. Had that lion been truly an accident?. Why had he been always under medical observation during all his childhood?. Why his parents were so concerned about his capabilities? He had been only a simple white kid of an agricultural area, with a dysfunctional family. Nothing more, nothing less.

But...

The doubt could only grow.

* * *

 

_The assaults were a matter of luck. Appearing a day, disappearing soon after. It was a danger always present, as it was the famine. And they were treated in the same way: every peaceful day was a blessing, enjoyed until night, thanked to the Lord, but it was never taken for granted. It was never clear when it was going to be the last day of peace and bread._

_That day the mobs attacked during the night. The surprise element had caught everyone with their guard off, and as a result, many Templars died or ended seriously wounded._

_St. Armand had been one of them._

_Running a delirious fever, trapped inside the dreams that such temperature induces, St. Armand was resting in Benedict de Mont Froi's bed. By his side, the abbot kept cleaning the piece of fabric in a bowl of water and put it on the forehead of the wounded, to reduce his temperature._

_The knight's chest was bandaged, and a dark red stain was spreading over it slowly._

_From time to time, the abbot caressed the man's head and cheeks, giving with his gesture some intimate comfort to the wounded man._

_He kissed Armand's forehead and a whisper escaped from his lips._

" _I can't loseth thou. Prithee, beest stout*!”_

* * *

 

They landed in Cusco, once the beautiful old capital of the Incas, now a cramped city full of small houses and old colonial buildings. This time they had to meet a man called Enrique Pérez, a man with indigenous ancestry and a long résumé of political qualifications. The New President of Peru.

Their welcome was harsh, and they received a poor treatment once they left the airport. A transparent presentation to the government was not a good idea either. It was as if politeness had stopped ruling in that country, or at least towards them. Only after a couple of days they could understand the reason for such undeserved treatment. The secret agents of the Peruvian government had informed the presence of Malachi and David soon after their landing, and both of them were perceived as USA's agents whose main missions was to collect political information in order to undermine the recently established government. They could not blame them. The fresh wounds in Latinoamerica were far from healing.

Taking into account such context, they barely interacted with the president. The security around him was too high, recently set due to the presence of those supposed USA agents.

“This is ridiculous. I'm not even an American” Malachi protested to the secretary of the Government Palace, trying for 5th time to set an appointment with the president. “We had made a long way from home to speak with him. We do not represent any kind of danger-”

The secretary interrupted his words.“First, America is a continent, not a country, therefore I, too, am an American in such case. Second, my apologies Mr. Rector, but your access is banned.”

Meanwhile they talked, a large group of security men were appearing in the main entrance of the Government Palace. Malachi and David started to feel the pressure.

“¿Ni quiera un pequeño entrevista?. Estamos parte de agencia de shiencia y tecnología.” [not even a brief interview?. We are part of an agency of Science and Technology] David said in a broken, grammatically incorrect Spanish that did not impress the secretary. Without giving up, he offered to him a presentation card. It was one of those that FITA gave them so that their bluffs could be more consistent.

But once again the secretary rejected them. “My apologies, gentlemen, but please, leave.”

“Why? We only want an interview. Short.” Malachi rubbed his temples.

The secretary observed David and then focused on Malachi. “If you ask me, it was never a wise diplomatic movement to bring a soldier with you.”

“Yo no estoy una soldado” [I'm not a soldier] David insisted in his broken Spanish.

“Usted lo es. We are aware of his work in places such as Colombia, Mr. Walker. Please, do not insist.”

David went silent and looked down, putting a hand on Malachi's shoulder. “Forget it. We won't be able to speak with the man.”

Malachi looked for the last time to the secretary who shrugged. There was nothing more to do. Both of them walked out of the Government Palace and headed to the hotel. They needed to talk with Dexter immediately.

 

Once in their room, Malachi called to FITA. The identification of the pattern was at stake unless they could obtain some kind of privileged access. Sadly, Dexter could not do much. The best he offered to them was to wait a couple of days until he could find some agent inside the country that would help them. There was nothing more to do.

 

David sat in the bed and focused on his own mobile, investigating as much as possible about the president. Personal life, legal issues, family.

The first interesting trait was the fact that the indigenous man used to be a peaceful protester until the conservative support spread all over the country. The fascist tendency of the conservatives forced the man to take arms before the scraps of democracy could be completely destroyed. It was a rough inner war. His group was mostly compounded by indigenous people and farmers, while the conservative supporters had all the help from embassies of rich countries and multinational corporations that were interested in removing his figure from the political action. They needed a plain terrain where to operate without people reclaiming about ancestral lands, the right to exploit their own natural resources, and labour flexibility.

The conflict lasted years, and the pressure increased over time. Facing external and inner elites that could not care less about the native people and their lands and rights, Enrique had no another choice than to build a popular army, which followed him as its main leader. He was doing everything to keep safe his country from a second colonialist empire.

It was impossible not to compare his fight with the Zapatistas' in Mexico. However, the man was far from being a mere guerrilla warrior. His brilliance and his natural ability to craft alliance with powerful and intelligent people always helped him to keep him in the fine line between being caught and maintaining the popular armies.

His guerrilla attacks had always been extremely precise, targetting the most nasty men from the elite, preventing the death of innocent people. He certainly was a mastermind, and most citizens of the country could recognize him as a true warrior of the people. He even had earned the name of Túpac Amaru, whose legend said that he was going to return over and over to save his people from the White men.

That inner war ended after some years, and Enrique had to deal with its consequences. However, he showed once more his smartness and the complex networking he had crafted along his life. During his political campaign, he avoided arrests and major trials associated with his violent past. His lawyers were people of great ability, indeed, but it was not the only thing he needed to stay safe. The country was full of his secret supporters spread in all levels of the current society. From Judges to polices, and even national businessmen; all of them wanted the man to reach the highest position. Enrique had certainly revived the legend of the last Inca monarch, giving burning hopes to his people.

His relationship with arms led him to deal with the Peruvian Justice several times though, and he was still facing some minor trials when he was elected. The fact that he could still access to the presidency of the country showed not only how intelligent he was, but also how sickly their Justice system was; exactly one of his main denounces when he was leading the inner war. The irony made David smirk. That had been sardonically smart.

Certainly, Mr. Pérez was a hell of a smart ass, David could not stop the admiration that suddenly grew on him. No wonder why they would never approach him in person. Enrique knew quite well the odds, the bad image he could give to his people by talking to them, or even the real danger of his own persona in case they were agents sent to kill him. Considering all the possibilities and all the scenarios, it was more than obvious that the man would never open the door to them.

 

David shared these facts with Malachi, who kept listening thoroughly, seated in the other bed of the room, scratching his chin.

“If he is the person I think he is, it's not about ancient History” Malachi said, letting the worry to be transmitted in his face.

“I know right?. You probably saw that pattern yourself.”

“I guess I did... It is Mandela story, isn't it?”.

David nodded putting his smartphone in the back-pocket of his trousers. “And, again, this is bad... Did you see the pattern that Dexter is trying to makes us follow? Besides Sonja, the other two guys were also strong socialists, Kakuo is not a politician, but he writes about it. And he is good. Best-seller." he rubbed his lips with a hand, looking aside for a moment. "We informed three out of four of them. We should keep this one secret. Just in case. Mr. Pérez is priceless for his people. I think we need to see what FITA is going to do with the information we have already given to them.”

Malachi pressed his temples while thinking. David had a strong point there.

 

The next day, Dexter's agent took contact with them. Sadly, she was unable to grant them access to the government Palace, so that they had to reduce their investigation to precarious interviews with the people close to Pérez, and in the best cases, to contact friends that were basically non-cooperative. The man had surrounded himself with the smartest people, so it was impossible to use bluffs or cheap tricks to obtain any extra information.

Those days in Peru had proved to be a truly waste of time, so that they decided to simply left the country without saying a word about their speculations to FITA.

David had a point; they needed to know what was going to happen with the provided information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prithee, beest stout* : Please, I beg you, be strong.


	3. Chapter 3

__

* * *

 

_A kiss on his bare shoulder. A gentle, scarred arm surrounding his waist. A tough body close to him, warming his back. A calm breathing in his nape. Nobody or nothing had ever made him feel so in peace. Nothing had softened the seizures as it had done his tender presence._

“ _What doth thou worry about, My Lord?” a whisper in his ear followed by another kiss in his nape, “another restless night of bad dreams?”_

“ _T'is hard for me to keepeth in sleeps. So many things I've seen. And so strange. They maketh me wonder if t'is true mine sanity is reaching its end.”_

_The knight lifted a bit, took the abbot's jaw kindly and looked at him. His clear eyes reflected part of the moonlight that barely illuminated the room._

“ _Trust me. Thou art not insane. And in any case, I wilt beest by thy side to control 't* ”_

_Benedict smiled and cupped the knight's face, guiding him to his own lips, kissing him deeply, feeling that broad body leaning all its weight over him._

* * *

 

Malachi woke up with an unusual feeling in his chest. It was calm, gentle, but it had some twisted subtle layer of anxiety. It was exactly the unavoidable fear of losing a safety that was taken for granted.

Among his rules he had one which consisted in never getting used to good things, mainly those provided by people. There was weakness in them. Enjoying a good moment was a thing, another entirely different one was to get used to them. That familiarity was a trap, because the fear of loss always became a chain that guided its slaves into the pit of mistakes.

Everyone knew that the worst decisions were always made under the effects of fears. And exactly that was the twisted feeling that rooted in his chest at the end of that marvellous dream. Or maybe a vision.

It was, indeed, a delicious flavour for a killing poison.

He sat in the bed and rubbed his eyes. There was neither headaches, nor despair, not even the slight tachycardia that introduces a typical panic attack. No.

In fact, he was in a comfortable state of mind. Too comfortable, to be honest, and probably that was exactly what made him uneasy.

He observed the empty side of his enormous bed. There was something wrong in it. As if something were missing. Or someone.

The memory of a smell hit him. It was some kind of a fading perfume based on water and roses, but its main tone was human skin, a bit acrid but fresh. The smell of a warrior that tried to cover his sweat with a rudimentary perfumed water, or maybe the perfume had simply faded due to the sweat of a passionate night.

Malachi blinked. He remembered it. Out of the blue, he remembered St. Armand's smell.

He frowned in disappointment. That was ridiculous. This crazy theory had nothing to do with reincarnation but archetypes and patterns in History. There was no way for him to remember something he never lived, unless... it were a symptom of his insanity. Or autosuggestion. Or maybe his loneliness.

Either way it was highly worrisome.

 

He got up and took a long shower, releasing part of the tension that such dream had inspired him. Downstairs, he approached the window of the living room and observed the urban landscape. It was greyer than ever. The threat of a storm had accentuated the usual dark colours of the city. It was an excellent day to remain in the apartment, maybe watching a video, and rest. Something that they had been doing only partially in their travel around the world looking for patterns. Their bodies still had to deal with many jet lags accumulated, and the day was pushing him to do so.

The sound of the main door caught Malachi attention, looked at it and found David who was holding some paper bags.

“Oh, hey. Good morning. I've just gone to buy some bread and milk. Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Good Morning.”

They took their usual places in the marble counter of the kitchen and ate peacefully. From time to time, David looked at Malachi for a couple of seconds, as if he were measuring him. His constant observation ended when he finally spoke. “Are you okay?”

Malachi looked at him for a second, curious, chewing. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

“I don't know, you look strange, like you do after one of your episodes. Did you have one of those when I was out?”

Malachi's look fell down to the counter. He grabbed his own shoulder, pressing on it to find some level of reassurance. “Well, I think I had one this morning, during my sleep, in my dream. No headache though.”

“Are you okay now?. What was it about?”

He was going to explain calmly as he usually did, but his lips remained shut when the memory of St. Armand over the Abbot echoed in every corner of his body. He had not been a mere witnessed of the dream, he had felt the whole situation during it. He swallowed. “About that... well, it's not much… it's nonsense”

“Your seizures never are nonsense”, David did not miss the strange reaction. He crossed his arms while he was still chewing a toast. “Ok, I get it. You don't want to share it with me.” David sighed frustrated. After all, he only wanted to know, to understand that strange gift, or maybe curse, that Malachi had.

Feeling guilty, Malachi drank a bit of his tea before continuing, “It's not like I don't want to share... it's simply… strange. I don’t understand the process. And that worries me. Some visions seem to pass through my own body.”

David raised his eyebrows. “How so?.”

“I don't know...”

David twisted his mouth, “Oh, C'mon. Time ago you promised me that you would explain to me all this stuff about visions, do you remember? Before Qatar and after coming back from visiting my sister. You told me you would in its due time, but man, I've been waiting a lot. I'm the one who is always worried about you, your visions, your seizures. Let me know. I want to know. I really do. Please.”

Malachi frowned while looking at him. He remembered that promise. Of course he did, he never forgot anything. Sometimes his memory was a curse as well.

He drank another sip of his steamy tea, preparing his mind for the confession, and without looking up at David, he spoke in a soft tone, “I've dreamt about this abbot and his associate. It was too vivid. I could even... smell St. Armand's skin.”

“Wow. You had to be pretty close.” David said trying to encourage more details, to keep the narration flowing, but Malachi remained silent. That was all. That was all what Malachi was going to share if he was not going to be pushed a little more.

David took his time to eat another toast before continuing “Kye, I've been wondering all this time… we are always looking for patterns in other people's lives, but… aren't we some kind of pattern too? Like… a Sherlock and Watson pattern or something like that?”

Malachi chuckled but did not make eye contact. “They are fictional characters, though.”

“But aren't we following the pattern of some guys who kept following other people's patterns and had been doing this a lot of times during mankind History?”

Uncomfortable, Malachi looked through the windows. David had been a good man during all that time. He had protected him from danger and had offered a kind of help that he had never found before. David was an anchor in his life, the safe signal in an ocean of visions, panic attacks, and headaches. Of course he hated to owe favours to others, but he could not deny that his debt to David surpassed any amount of money. He would never pay it back with dollars. Sharing this was not a big deal, and in a sense it was a way to repaid for all what David had given to him. And who knew, maybe in a future, he would make good use of this information to save his own neck.

Malachi sighed. “According to Dexter, we are not exactly patterns of past figures… but archetypes. Dual Archetypes.”

“That happened several times in History?”

“Exactly. The Savant and the Warrior, we are. And it seems that the first ones were the abbot Benedict de Mont Froi, and his knight, the former Crusader St. Armand.”

David raised his eyebrows. “Ah, that explains why we were looking for information about those two in France. And you blacked out in the catacombs…. That means…?”

Malachi nodded slightly. “I saw his vision on you. The Crusader...”

“I see. That was the reason why you started to ask me about my interest in the army or in the medieval age, right?”  
“Exactly so.” Malachi sipped.

“So, we are repeating the archetype, not their lives….does it mean that I'm not that Crusader, or you that Abbot?. But you said you saw the Crusader in the catacomb...” David drank a bit of his coffee, thinking in his own question.

Malachi looked at him, “To be honest, I'm not sure where the difference lays. Whether the Archetype or the historical man, I'm repeating the abbot's patterns too accurately to my own taste…but you... you have some differences with the Crusader.”

“Like what?”

“That abbot's childhood… his seizures, his work, the way he was perceived by his contemporaries. All of that fits. St. Armand was a Crusader who abandoned the cause because he lost faith in it. He had a family, a son and a wife, but he remained by Mont Froi's side as a protector ever since, forgetting about them. I don't think you are repeating that. Not as I'm doing it with the Abbot.”

David draw a tired smile. “Well, maybe his family was dead. Maybe it was just a made-up story. Hard to say; those guys weren't famous in their time, so there are not many records about the details of their lives.”

“Fair enough. However, I keep seeing the visions… and… well-” David tilted his head, waiting for Malachi to finish the sentence. “The bond they shared was… quite strong.”

David looked down, nodding, and drank the rest of his coffee all at once. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, when suddenly, he started to laugh.

Surprised, Malachi crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “what that comes from?”

“Visions passing through your body?. Smelling St. Armand's skin?. Lucky you.”

Malachi tried to simulate a bit of anger, but David's laughter was too contagious, so he ended up smiling a bit embarrassed, chuckling.

Damn man, he was too smart for his own good.

* * *

 

Suddenly, the store's door opened wide, smashing the bell in its top against the wall. Gretchen and David, who were talking lightly, looked at the person walking in.

“Where is he?” a young man with a dashing suit entered nervously. He looked around, putting his hand in the handle of the door of Malachi's office.

David grabbed his forearm firmly. “Excuse me Sir, but this is a place out of reach for clients.”

“Clients? I'm not a mere client”.

“Mister Gabrielle, you bought us recently some art objects” Gretchen added, putting herself in front of the man.

The agitated man sighed, releasing himself from David's touch. He straightened his suit and looked at Gretchen. “My apologies, but there are some personal issues I would like to talk with Mr. Rector.”

“Please, make an appointment with him, I can offer you this number-” she showed her tablet to him, but the man simply put it aside.

“I know. I've been trying to call him for days without success.”

“Well Sir, maybe he doesn't want to talk to you. Sir.” David added, hardening his gesture. This was the asshole that had been calling Malachi several times a day for almost five weeks.

“What this fuss is all about?” Malachi said opening the office door with a deep frown in his face. However, as soon as he spotted the man regretted his intervention. “Oh. Please, not here too. Stop this nonsense.”

“Nonsense, you say?. I think we need to talk about.” The man crossed his arms in an affected way.

“There is nothing to talk about. Everything has been said before, and I thought we had agreed about the terms.”

“Well, I require to expand them.”

Malachi pressed two fingers in his own forehead, shaking his head slowly. “No, you didn't understand. That's non-negotiable. We had agreed with that.”

“We slept together! That's not a mere business, it has to be negotiated. All the time. We need to talk, whether you like it or not.”

Malachi hissed, stepping inside the office, “Walk in, I don't need you to do a dramatic scene in my workplace in front of my employees.”

The man entered, and before Malachi could close the door, crossed his look with David's. He only shook his head slowly, telling to David in that gesture to relax and to stay out of that issue. Clearly Malachi wanted to solve the problem privately. However, as soon as the door was closed, the shouts inside and the scandalous and detailed arguments aloud made impossible any level of discretion.

Gretchen and David remained on the other side of the door, making faces of surprise and disgust every time they listened an extreme detail of the sexual encounter that both men were arguing about.

At some point in such embarrassing discussion, a knock followed by Malachi's scream finished the meeting as David burst into the office. The man had punched Malachi and had twisted one of his arms to his back, pushing him against the desk.

David got the man by the clavicle, and reduced him immediately. "Touch him, and you will find big troubles" David said to the sophisticated man that was now in the ground, under the weight of the ex-soldier.

Malachi straightened his suit and touched his lip. It was bleeding again. "I think Mr. Gabrielle won't give us any trouble from now on, considering the legal problem he is in now" the man looked up at him, frowning, "Yes, Mr. Gabrielle. I won't overlook this, as I've been doing with your harassing calls. This office has cameras, and you threatened my life. Call your lawyer."

 

 

That night in the flat, David and Malachi were more silent than usual. They had taken a shower, and were eating China food delivery at the kitchen. From time to time Malachi had to put the chopsticks aside to apply a small piece of ice on his lower lip. The bleeding had avoided that the lip would swollen, but the pain was annoying.

Suddenly, the silence of the flat was interrupted by Malachi's mobile. He looked at the screen and sighed.

“Again that jerk?”. David asked.

“No, no. Just... No” Malachi said after looking at David for a couple of awkward seconds, then he picked the call. “Good evening. Aham. Why would you... Oh?. I'm not sure if I'm interested. Maybe. Oh?. Would you like to simply share a good dinner?. Oh, sure, for you, anything. Meet you in a hour at the place.”

David chew his mouthful observing Malachi. Another dinner? They had already have dinner. He felt that so well-known emotion deep inside his guts. He tried to control it. “Didn't you get enough with that jerk?” Oh, he couldn't.

_Stay back. Stay Back._

Malachi raised an eyebrow. “I believe it's not your concern.”  
“Your safety _is_ my concern. Always.” David swallowed the food while struggling to control that annoying feeling.

“Am I detecting some strange level of jealousy?” Malachi smirked. He was a master in observing the small details in people. Their mind state was so easily read by those penetrating brown eyes.

David clenched his teeth and looked down. He had to control it. He hated it. It was so childish of himself. “Of course not. I worry about you. What if this asshole hurts you again?. What happened in your office was not minor... I guess you understand that”.

“ _That_. Well. But don't worry about me being hurt. That's pretty much a desirable thing.” He said cleaning his lips with a napkin.

“What?” David blinked, raising his look in surprise to Malachi's, but the man simply kept avoiding the eye contact. Maybe he regretted to said that.

Malachi changed his mood and simply stood up “Just... kidding." He said without conviction. "This time is a woman. Don't worry.”

 

Malachi left the kitchen counter and went to his room. In a couple of minutes he was prepared for a date: casual suit, shiny shoes, classic hairstyle. He was wearing that kind of perfume that David loved so much. It was a scent too strong not to follow the wearer with the eyes. Certainly, it was a scent that cast a spell.

Before leaving the apartment, Malachi waved his hand seductively from the main door, and closed it. A bit down and annoyed, David moved his hand seconds after the door was closed, and looked at his food still in the discarded plate. That scent wake lasted for a while.

He was angry. Well, angry was not the exact word. It was an emotion that he was not stranger with. An emotion he had found in his teenage, and had appeared here and there, once in a while. The old twitching thingie pressing his guts. A teenage memory. That nonsensical jealousy that was hard to restrain.

_Fuck this._

He threw the dishes in the trash and went to his room. The only way to solve that twitching feeling in his guts was through sleeping. There was nothing more to do about it.

After an hour of tossing and turning in the bed, when he was starting to fall asleep, his own mobile rang. Startled at first, he jumped from his bed and looked at the smartphone screen. Every danger in which Malachi could be crossed his mind in that fraction of second.

But it was Gretchen.

He sighed, wondering if he had to answer. He had enough with his own jealousy to deal with other's. He cancelled the call several times, but after the third one, he had to pick it up. She was an insistent person.

“Don't be a brat. I know you don't want to talk with me a Friday at night since the last time, even though I tried my best to do you a favour... But, now, I think that you should know that Malachi is here.”

David blinked, “Aham. Congrats, I guess.”

“No. No, no, no. He is here, not _with_ me. It happens to be here in the same pub. He is with a client's wife. I thought you may find useful to know where your boss is, considering he is the one who pays you for protection.”

David put his arm on his forehead “He didn't invite me to protect him tonight. So, I guess I'm okay.”

“You saw how exposed he has been these days, and you simply say that?”

“What do you want me to do?. I can't invade his privacy.”

“Okay. Come with me. _The bloom_ is the pub. Street seventy two. Close to the park. You are going out with me, then. Nothing about following your boss for protection.”

David sighed. Well, he had been in worse places, right?. He hanged out the call, and went out of the bed. The truth be told, he was not going to sleep with so many things in his mind anyway.

He changed his clothes to a casual jeans with a fitting shirt and went to the pub.

 

It was surprising for him to find Gretchen. She was in an informal dress in white, with wild hairstyle and a beautiful stylish make up that made her look like a celebrity.

“Wow. You really are stunning”. He said honestly.

Gretchen looked at him in surprise, and then laughed softly. “Well, thank you. Sit here.”

He observed the table. It was for two. “Are you waiting for someone?.”

“No. Not anymore. He cancelled it”. She said showing her mobile screen at him. It was a Tinder cancellation message.

“Oh. That site. There are usually a lot of assholes there”. He said, knowing from some friends' experiences

“Well, it's all what you can access when you work your whole time in an antique store and the good-looking guys are jerks or gays.”

David looked aside, not sure to take that comment personally. He looked around to spot Malachi in a corner, close to some plants that helped him to stay hidden while he was speaking to a woman too close from her face.

“You couldn't avoid it, right?”

David blinked and looked at Gretchen, a bit lost by the sudden conversation. “Uh?”

“You fell. It always happens.” She sighed looking down. “Whether you want to break the walls, or just to fix what seems to be broken... but there will be never nothing there. It's useless.”

“I don't think so. Kye...Ma-Malachi is not made of stone, you know.”

She blinked and then, raised her eyebrows, “ _Kye_?, has you just called him _that_ way? Since when?”

“It's not big deal...”

“Since when?” She insisted.

He looked aside, embarrassed. “Since the kidnapping. He told me to.”

She opened her mouth slightly, and took her a couple of seconds to cover it with a hand. “Did he tell you?, wowh.” Still shocked, she looked aside, unable to blink.

“For your reaction, I'll assume that's super odd for him?”

“Indeed. He never would allow anyone to get closer. Calling him by a nick name is a clear step toward that. Weird.”

He rubbed his face, “I guess now you hate me more...”

“Hate you?... wait. Do you think I hate _you_?” David silence was her answer, so she chuckled “Oh, fuck. You are a clueless man, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Honestly?” she smirked at him, tilting her head.

“Honestly.”

“I was annoyed at first, it's true. Malachi coming from Cairo with such a handsome guy... trusting in him so easily. I had to work hard more than a year to earn Malachi's trust. A trust that only goes for the store, anyway. But the muscled pretty guy simply had to show up in Cairo and got it all. He went straight into Malachi's apartment. Do you get it?”

“Yeah... but it's not like we-“

Gretchen patted David's forearm. “I know. Don't worry. But then, I... I realised you were a good guy. Gay. That annoyed me more...” David looked down. “Don't get me wrong. Since Malachi was an asshole. I was starting to think that maybe you... and me.... you know. A chance... but there you are. No more chances for me.”

David looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Wait. Were you hitting _on_ me?. Jesus. That was more like you were _hitting_ me.”

She laughed softly.“Well, my usual approaches are a bit... unconventional. If you can deal with some tough stuff in the first date with me... chances are high that we may work. Anyway... your answer back then was clear for me. _My personal life is none of your business_.” She mocked David's voice. “Do you know how many gay men trying to stay covered told me that?. I concluded that you had almost no experience in dating. Clearly. I've seen men working harder to craft better excuses than the most obvious one.

David scratched his nape, using the movement to observe Malachi. “Well, all my life was the Army. Don't blame me. Social interaction and social protocol is not my speciality.”

She chuckled and rested her chin in a hand. “You were always alone, all this time?”

Silence.

He looked down, observing his hands on the table, then he drank the beer that Gretchen had already ordered for him. He needed a bit of alcohol to encourage himself. “I... about that... talking about.... It hurts.”

Gretchen relaxed her gesture and patted David's forearm. “Do you think that talking now would help? a bit?. Don't force yourself if you don't want to.”

He looked at her. With all the misunderstanding cleared, she looked less scary and more friendly. And... why not?. He was a bit tired of all that issue so bottled up for so many years. “He is dead. I couldn't buy more time. The plan was...” David's eyes turned wetter. He cleared his throat. “Despite the time, it always hurts to talk about him, to think of all the things I could have done to save him... And... I didn't.” David wiped out the single tear that could not restrain, “I'm sorry...”, he cleared his throat again.

She caressed David forearm sincerely and reached his hand, pressing it with care. “Has it been recent?”

“Three years. Ten months. Three weeks.”

“Oh, David, you keep _that_ count....” he looked aside, thankful for those gentle hands holding his. “does Malachi know it?”

He shook his head. “No, I guess.”

Gretchen looked again at Malachi. The man was smirking at the woman. “Please, David, take my advice. Don't go after Malachi. He will only hurt you more. You don't deserve it.”

He smiled at her. He wanted to tell her what had happened that night with whiskeys in between, but it made no sense. It had been nothing after all. And it was clear that will never be anything more considering the different ways that both Malachi and him, had in doing these things.

“I'll try to follow your advice” he finally said biting his lower lip.

“Oh, shit. It's too late, right?”. Gretchen rubbed her face. “You fell already. Deeply.”. She could identify every single symptoms of that on him. She had passed through all of them. She had seen so many to pass through all of them as well.

David crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Oh, c'mon. Give me a break. Stop peering through me.”

“Yeah. That's exactly what everyone tells me when I hit the exact point . I've told you, I've seen this countless times”

David laughed softly and looked at Malachi, who was now kissing the woman. His laugh was wiped out immediately, and he looked aside just to find Gretchen observing the couple far away and then at him, with an immutable face. “Do you want to watch a movie later?” She smiled at him gently.

“Are you....” he squinted at her, hesitant.

“...Suggesting exactly that. No, David. Let's just get to know each other as friends. You seem to be a good guy. It's good to have good people around.”

He smiled at her, surprised to find such side of her, “Thank you. And about the movie... sure. Just nothing about war, please”

“And nothing about romantic comedy either”

He chuckled. “Deal.”

They looked at the corner where Malachi had been, but now it was empty.

* * *

 

Everyone likes to have a Lion in their inside.

It makes things easier. It makes things simpler.

The Lion is always there, close to you, ready to attack what you want as a prey.

 

Free of consequences.

Lions are lions, everyone says.

Nobody is to blame.

* * *

 

David entered the apartment yawning, not bothering to turn the lights on.

The alternative cinema that he and Gretchen had found, turned out to be more interesting than they had imagined. Instead the usual single movie of two hours, they ended watching five hours of indie films and short-films that had been awarded last year. The discussion with Gretchen about those pieces of art had been profound, and both of them enjoyed what they had thought it was going to be a disastrous night. He was glad to get to know Gretchen a bit more. She seemed to be a good friend after all.

“I thought you were going to be here tonight.”

David startled and looked at the sofa, squinting to see in the penumbra. He spotted Malachi in the sofa, looking at the urban landscape through the window. He sounded to be a little drunk, but it did not stop him to keep drinking whisky there. The man moved the glass in a circle, and the city lights made it glitter in the darkness. Malachi took a sip while waiting David's answer.

“I changed my mind...” Finally David said.

 

_Stay back. Stay Back._

 

“I thought she was not your type... at all.” Malachi kept moving the glass in big circles. David turned the light on and crossed his arms without saying a word. Malachi narrowed his eyes for a moment, getting use to the sudden bright, and took his time to open them again. “I saw you. I thought you were following me... but then...” David remained silent, observing the man who was a bit dishevelled. “I thought you had no interest in her... Did I read you wrongly?. Strange. I would have swear that I did it perfectly. Think I'm losing my ability.”

David could see strange marks in Malachi's neck and wrists, and once more he worried. “Are you okay?”

 

_Stay back. Stay Back. Kay, stay back._

 

“It's... annoying. To never find... something. Meaning? Forgiveness? Change?. Just the moment, and everything fades. Do you... have this same feeling?”

David tilted his head “Um.. you high?”

Malachi observed him. Not as he usually did, but intense, almost angry. His frown was deeper. Suddenly, he got up, staggering, and grabbed David's shirt, unbuttoning it violently in a single brutal movement.

David could not react until he blinked. “Hey, what the fuck?” he grabbed Malachi's wrists firmly, making him grunt. David released him immediately just to see his palms that were a bit wet. They were stained with blood. He took Malachi by the forearms and inspected his wrists. The blood had come from some strange wounds in Malachi's fingers. What was that man into?

“Just do it. With anger. I deserve this...”

David scratched his own head. “Kye, I don't have a flying fuck idea what's going on in your head. But I think you need to go sleep. Now.”

“I thought she was not your type. I thought you were gay...”

Both of them looked at each other.

David's face was contorted into a gesture of confusion.“You mean Gretchen?. she's not... what the f-” David rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly. “Oh. Shit”. He hated to deal with drunk people.

“Why did you go out with her otherwise?”

“I don't know where this is coming from, but I gonna assume you are just a bad drinker...”

“Why she and not me?” Malachi put his hands in David's belt, pulling him. However, David only snatched the man's hands away.

“Well, you never invited me, and you were going out with this person...”

“I didn't want to.” Malachi insisted.

David frowned, getting more and more confused with every word. “What? Why did you do it in the first place then?”

“Because you forced me...”Malachi whispered close to David's face.

“Uh? What the fuck, Malachi. Go to bed, you are so unlike of you.”

“Why with her is right and with me not?... Am I not fuckworthy?”

“What-... What the hell?. Malachi, I went to watch movies with Gretchen. You know? people can go out with others without fucking. Is that so strange for you? Maybe you should try it yourself. Besides, why I have to give you fucking explanations of my life?. You give a shit to me. It's always not my business, right?. Well, this is not _your_ business, now. I don't want to see your drunk ass anymore, man. I'm going to sleep. Do the same. And fuck off.”

Malachi observed David slamming the door of his room and locked it. There was a symbol there that his drunk mind could not process. He felt himself desperate and confused. He wanted to be held, to be devoured.

Damn alcohol. It was good to avoid the visions lately, but damn shit about the feeling of losing control of everything.

He went upstairs, but instead of going to his bed, he simply remained in the rings, expecting for something to come, but it never did. Instead, he fell asleep there.

* * *

 

Malachi was in his desk trying to read the newspaper. His headache was horrible, not like the usual one. It had the extra strong additional effect of the hangover: a constant throbbing, a deep hum, the compression and relaxation of a blood pump. He tried to apply some pressure somewhere in his head, but he only triggered more pain, coming from his hurt fingers full of band-aids.

He was still sleepy despite having been late at work. David had not waken him, probably because he was still upset with whatever they had argued last night. Without even a proper breakfast, he headed to the office where he found Gretchen, arranging a list of appraisals to do in the next day, and David, standing in the entrance, observing the movement from the streets. He had opened the door for him, but they did not share more than a single good morning, avoiding any eye contact.

There was not much to do but keeping silent, greeting coldly, and locking himself up in his office. No matter how much he would pretend reading the documents, his head, his all persona felt like shit. He put the paper aside, and rested his head over his crossed arms on the desk. He wanted something, anything, that could stop the horrible way he was feeling that morning.

A knock echoed in his head like a thunder. He lifted from the desk and granted the permission, taking three pills in a row in the same moment that David entered.

“Hey, that's a lot more of what you usually take”

“My headache is a lot more horrible than it usually is”

“You drank too much.” David looked down for a moment. “Something to worry about?”

“No. No. Just... I prefer the hangover over the emotions after the visions... Pills are not working alone any longer.”

David pressed his lips in a thin line, “Really you don't want to rest at home?”

“I wish, but we need to go to FITA in a couple of hours. We didn't give them our last report yet... and.. I have to set some things for a couple of clients...”

"About that", David approached Malachi placing a newspapers on the desk “I wanted to bring you this, and... well... check the international news.”

Malachi frowned. He took the newspaper and looked inside.

Sonja Cronje had died in a domestic accident, Yamagata Kakuo was found hanged in his home, and Federica Yasay had drown in the sea.

Malachi looked at David, who simply shook his head softly. “I bet Enrique Pérez is the next one...”

“Their deaths are not following the pattern” Malachi folded his hands and pressed them against his lips. “David... any opinion?”

“You know. Same as what you are thinking.”

Malachi rubbed his face. “I... We need to find some proof before blaming FITA. What if this is the same than before? Another traitor inside the agency.”

“I don't know.”

Considering Malachi's needs for silence in order to think, David stepped back to go out of the office, however, Malachi's stopped him midway.

“Uh... David.” He turned over his heels. “About last night...”, Malachi did not look at him, instead, he kept hiding his face in his hands, tired. “I'm sorry. I remember just scraps of what happened. And I feel it was not me. At all. I'm not a good drinker, and I've been drinking a lot lately... My apologies.”

“Okay. Don't worry about it. Just... stop, right?” Malachi uncovered his face and looked at him, attentive, “Stop drinking that way. Won't end well.”

Malachi nodded. “Thank you...”

The office's door simply closed after David.

* * *

 

That evening Malachi sighed when he stopped the car in front of FITA's building. He wet his lips and looked at David out of the corner of his own eye. “What are we going to say to them?”

“I don't know. We saw the pattern. Three out of four people you identified, and informed right after you got them, are now dead. And not because the pattern.”

“Should we tell Dexter about our second thoughts? What if another senator has his own plans?”

“You know what I think.” David crossed his arms and looked out of the window. Some unidentified anger was pressing his voice, or maybe it was that old jealousy that from time to time he had to deal with. His personal, secret war.

Both of them left the car and headed to Dexter's office.

As usual, they presented all the relationships in a detailed report compiled in a folder.

“So, we also have lost the Luxemburg's pattern....” Dexter scratched his chin. Malachi could see clearly that the man had not lost his temper with the news. “What about the other one?”

Malachi gave himself a moment before speaking. He were not sure why he was going to do the next trick, but he could not overpass the slight pressure in the back of his head. It was a strange emotion twitching something inside his chest, something that made David hard to look. Malachi pressed his temple. _Damned David._ Finally, he cleared his throat, “Sadly, Enrique Pérez is not a pattern we could relate to. We thought he could be Mandela, but... no.”

“No?. Why?” Dexter asked surprised.

David blinked, but Malachi, as cool and cold as he usually was, took his smartphone and moved his finger on the screen. David could see that the man was simply scrolling down his play music list. Buying a bit of time.

“He has problems with alcohol, and his relationship with his kids is... weird.”

“Weird?” Dexter raised an eyebrow.

“I could not say, but clearly is not a caring father. I totally suspect he is quite misanthropic for following a pattern of a man who was the embodiment of the Ubuntu.”

Dexter kept silent for a moment, observing the desk, lost in his own thought for a brief seconds, “How did you find all that information? Our agent was unable-”

“I'm good at what I do, right? You pay me for that.” Malachi looked straight to Dexter, drawing a roguish smile.

The man sighed in resignation. It was the Savant's wisdom after all. “Very well... I'll give this information to my superiors. Here is the other list.”

Malachi raised an eyebrow. “Another one? And you are not even asking me?”

“This is vital.”

“When it's not.” Malachi observed the man for a moment, mistrustful of his words. Then, he took the new list and read it in detail. This time was not a bunch of living people's names but names of historical dead people to find their patterns in the average population of nowadays.

Kahlo, Guevara, Lenin, Namboodiripad, Keller. More rebels and figures that inspired rebellion and disobedience. David's suspicions began to seem more and more concrete. He thanked him silently for making him keep silent about Enriquez Pérez.

“Why do you need these people? Why so many?”

“That's confidential.” Dexter said. “and there is also another one that you should keep an eye. We still don't know where he is... but... I would like you to study Milton Friedman's biography. He is the only hope for our economy. You did an excellent work with Senator Markham and his wife. Now you must do the same with this man, whoever is he now; it will be key for our salvation”.

Malachi read the list a couple of times more, and without hesitation, he nodded. “Understood”

They left the the building right after the end of the meeting.

“So easily you accepted the second list...” It was all what David said when they got on the car. David kept silent during the whole trip back to home. Not even a silly joke. Bad, bad symptom.

 

 

The first thing David did when they returned to the apartment was to place his laptop in the kitchen counter and to browse for hours. Malachi took a shower, called for a delivery, and received it. He sat in front of David, as they usually did, and gave him his portion observing part of the screen. Wikipedia.

David stopped reading the screen for a moment, and rubbed his face. He looked through the window, lost in his own thoughts.

“You have been too silent. Something wrong?” Malachi said before eating his mouthful.

“Everything. We can't do this.” Malachi raised his eyebrows, “this pattern, this engineered pattern FITA is crafting... the president, the wife, the economist, the rebels. All here gives me goosebumps.”

“What do you mean?”

“These rebels are all people who will oppose to anything related to Friedman's work. Man, that's Modern History, pretty recently. Less than fifty years ago. I don't need to tell you, but... FITA's behind those dead. I totally bet. They are crafting the future with this wild fucked-up theory.”

“We need proof to sustain such accusation. It could be another senator. We should not put down the hipothesis of a third party here. Besides...” Malachi took out his mobile and browsed for a moment, “This economist, Friedman, seemed to have been quite capable. He won even a Nobel.”

“Pft, Kye, please. Worse assholes won it too. It means nothing.”

“I don't know David.” Malachi was among two contradicted sentiments. He wanted to deal with this and get paid; but on the other hand, he felt a small pressure due to David's concern. He had to do this right, otherwise David would resent it a lot. “Maybe we should just forget this forever.”

“You said that before, and look at us now.”

Malachi chuckled. “I was curious to know what all this was about. Now I understand. I don't need to follow orders.”

David closed his laptop. “Well, thing is... we should do something about this. We can't put it aside. This is really nasty.”

“The sooner we get rid of this, the better... We are not going to change the world anyway.”

“No.” David raised his voice.

“What? weren't you who wanted to leave FITA? To not meddle in their business?"

"Yeah. But...."

"I think you are taking this too personal. Why would you care so much?”

David wet his lips. “I've been in Afghanistan. I've seen what shit comes when someone else is engineering another country's decisions.”

“David, this is just a group of deluded people. Maybe they can solve the economy, maybe not. It doesn't matter, we are paid for this. Let's give them what they want, and we'll forget them forever.”

“No, you don't understand. I don't care about money. This is a big shit going on. Saving the economy is all what matters for them, and you know what? You know what happens when economy is more important than anything else?, than freedom, that autonomy?.” Malachi rolled his eyes, “Things like Afghanistan happen. They are willing to do whatever it takes for their precious economy, but it's never their ass the one burned. Vietnam, South America, Middle East. All for our economy's sake. This is a big shit. And it's happening once again...” David rubbed his face with both hands, and stayed hidden from Malachi's sight in that position.

“It can't be worse than ever. Once it's recovered-”

“It's just a cycle. Everything is so fucked-up.”

Malachi looked aside in silence for some second. “I do not believe this Moebius theory can be completely accurate. It's too inaccurate and based on speculations on an abbot that was almost forgotten by History. I think we should take what's our, being paid for the job and get done with it.”

Both remained in silence. David still had his face covered by his hands, leaning all his weight on his elbows in the counter. “I can't allow to do this once again. Ammar died for this shit... I can't believe this will get a massive scale...” David whispered.

Malachi blinked, “Who's Ammar?”

David took apart his hands and observed him in surprise. “Did I say that aloud?. Shit. Forget it. Sorry...”

Malachi touched David's forearm and stopped his anxiety. Both of them looked at each other. “David, calm down. We have some months ahead. We will see what comes up”.

David sighed deeply.

* * *

 

He kept remembering that voice, repeating those words over and over.

_I'm scared._

The embrace was not enough to protect the most precious treasure.

He was scared too.

He woke up in middle of the street, and walked through it, naked.

Where was his assault rifle? Where was his uniform?

The booing and insults of an angry mob got his attention. He ran, getting closer to those voices repeating in strange words a hate he knew quite well.

_I'm scared. Too scared._

The more he ran, the slower he became.

Whipping sounds broke the air. A scream he recognized. His desperation grew to the point to eat him alive.

He ran. And ran. And slowly, his uniform appeared, worn-out, splattered with blood. He was running over a ground full of chains. Bloody chains and leashes.

But the booing kept going on. He had no time to worry about the chains, about the violations, about the abuse. He had to run.

_I'm scared!._

His heartbeat was out of control, his breath was a mess, cold sweat crossed his back.

More whipping sounds, slashing against a skin. A well known skin. A tender warm skin.

The blood was everywhere, as the booing increased.

_I'm scared. Please, David. Help me._

He ran. The main square was almost there.

The sound of stones hitting the skin mortified him.

_I'm scared!._

He felt his feet bleeding, but he did not care. He kept running over chains, over broken glass, over broken bones, over disfigured bodies.

 

He reached. Just in that moment when he finally reached the main square, the fall turned to be inevitable.

_David, I'm scared._

 

The body fell from the top of the building, eternally in is path toward the ground.

He stopped breathing. He stopped feeling for a second.

Until the body smashed on the ground.

And everything was silent forever.

 

David woke up sweating, heavily breathing, with his hands shaking slightly.

He was still scared. He always was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wilt beest by thy side to control 't*: I want to be by your side to control it.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

It was late at night, the end of a long day of appraisals and arguments with people who hated to be told that their old family reliquaries were just bad replicas. Now it was the time for relaxing in his bed, that one that he rarely used. Drinking a midnight tea, he kept reading over and over several files in his lap, watching photos, and skimming annotations that he had commissioned to certain people who could investigate the man. Those, and all the information collected by Dexter gave him perspective about the man.

He took a sip and lifted a photo in the air observing it in detail. It was David's in his late twenties.

He put it in his lap, there, where several more were spread. All of those photos were about David's life. His childhood in Indiana, his parents, his sister and her husband. Even a dog. The files were fair to his story: he lived all his life in Indiana until college. He got a major in military history, and immediately after graduating he joined the army. Deployed in Afghanistan, he was one of the few witnesses that testified against his superiors in the scandalous case of torture in detention centres in Kabul. He got troubles with a lot of important people inside the army, therefore his military career was condemned to failure. He remained some more time in Kabul until something happened, something hard to investigate, and he ran away from the country. The causes were not clear in any file. He returned to USA and was sent to Colombia. There, he was assigned to train the local army to fight the guerrillas, but ended teaching them how to fight protesters. He left the army after that and wandered around the world. To follow his track in this part of his life was impossible. The next point where he was found was in Cairo, and at that point, his story concluded for the investigators.

There were some old newspapers about the muslin GLBT community that he could not understand how it fit in all this. But apart from that, David's story was clear and clean. He never lied to him, despite hiding some facts. He could not blame him for that.

The report, however, had a peculiar detail.

David was not single but widower. At least for New Jersey.

With these files, Malachi felt reassured that the man, who had living in his apartment for so long, was not a Taliban agent, or something else.

The report had solved part of his doubts and made him question others. But certainly, what Malachi could said for sure was that David had been witnessed of terrible things and now he was looking for a fresh start.

Understandable.

However, what Malachi could not understand was his own stubbornness in keeping those files in his night-stand, reading them over and over, and looking at the photos for hours. It had been a long time since he got those files. It had been even longer the time he had spent with David. He did not need those files... still yet.

He sighed.

Qatar had changed him beyond any guess.

* * *

 

Malachi took butter from the fridge and sat in the marble counter, and David poured some coffee in his mug. Half of the counter was full of old books from the local library and copies of all those he could not borrow. In a corner, David's laptop was open in a webpage of archetypes and symbolism along the humanity history.

“Since when had you turned into a scholar?”. Malachi said putting some butter in his toast.

“I wanna know better. And I wanna know if there is some kind of flexibility in all this stuff, in case it's real, of course. Trying to find the breaking points in any pattern, I learnt that this dual archetype is a thing.” David showed Malachi a sheet. It was a copy of an old book, with the Sage and the Protector archetypes on it.

“Uh. What do you mean?”

“For ages the Sage and her warrior were a strong symbol of order. In the ancient Egypt, women, priestesses, were the sages who brought wisdom to the people and pharaohs alike. In Japan happened the same until women stopped being available for accessing the throne. A plotting thing that worked well, I guess. I could number a lot more of cases. In all these examples, sages are related with religion. And we all know how powerful and important it is for humankind: it keeps knowledge, helps to develop sophisticated techniques, and has political control. Religion was key in the ancient history, so Sages were precious, important assets, in all its forms. That's why the warriors were always by their side. They were the expendable ones, those who had to protect the exceptional one. However, in order to avoid betrayal, or good rewards from enemies that could be tempting, most of the time it was encouraged a kind of deep relationship between the sages and their warriors. It's not strange that it ended in romance most of the time."

"As it used to happen with Daimyous and their Samurai."

"Yeah, you could say that, but we are talking about the Western and the Christianity, which hated deeply the homoerotic narration of the history. That's why most sages are women. And most warriors are men.”

Malachi raised an eyebrow. “What?, Could they not pic a woman in armour?”

“And destroying the concept that they were fragile, ill, weak?. Never!. They lived up for their heteronormativity bullshit.” David chuckled, drank a bit of coffee and showed Malachi the laptop's screen, “thing is, many warriors were women, and many sages were men, and sometimes both the same gender. However, it's funny, it always ends the same, they were encouraged to end like that. Damn historians and their censorship.”

“And why are you telling me this?” Malachi looked straight into David eyes, who drank a long sip of coffee, without breaking the contact.

“I'm not sure. Maybe to swear at the history censorship. Maybe to show that all this stuff about this Moebius theory is all bullshit. Maybe I'm just trying to say something.”

Malachi smirked at him. “Well, I guess you lost your chance with the latest sage you met.”

David chuckled. “Guess you are right.” He looked down, faking to read some books, “what can I say? I think you and me are like two boats.”

Frowning, Malachi remained in silence for a second, trying to guess, “We are lost in the sea of life?”

“We can't make a single row-mance” Malachi shook his head slowly, “Anyway. The dual archetype implies meaningful things, with promises. The bound must be strong for both to accomplish their destiny, it says.”

Malachi ate another toast in silence, thinking in those words. They had sounded so similar to Dexter's. “Maybe some things change. Back then, people used to die because they didn't wash their hands. Living beyond their thirties was a miracle. They needed that kind of bond to make things work faster. Now we live another reality. Probably that changes the patterns. If they are real in the first place, of course. Besides-” Malachi smirked, “- that kind of relationship was useful back then when they got a ridiculous rigid moral. Now it's not like having sex with someone will bond them.”

David frowned for a moment, and then looked at Malachi. “You think so?”

“It's not only what I think. It's how things are nowadays. When you take a person to bed you are not making promises beyond to spend a night in mutual enjoyment." Malachi chuckled. “The only strong bond nowadays is a big bank account. That's it.”

David did not laughed. He tapped his mug softly, looking down. He piled some books with a calm gesture. "If you say so" he sighed, "anyway, this dual archetype, we clearly break the rule, or this thing about repeating patterns has its own limitations, I think”.

“Why were you investigating this?”

“I guess I simply want to know, to understand. All this about Moebius is disturbing. And we don't know for sure if it's real.”

Malachi nodded and looked at the window, getting lost in his own thoughts. It was not the first time he wondered about Moebius. The whole project forced them to an existential questioning.

Suddenly, the window blurred, and he heard an explosion. Explosions that distorted into clanging swords. He looked around. A garden, a bed, a desk with manuscripts. The smell of Armand's skin reached his nostrils, and his soft moans keep him focused in a world that felt warmer and darker. He looked at his hands, and something glittered in one of them. Two small things.

Then, he simply blackened out.

* * *

 

They could identify the whole list given by Dexter in just several months. It was easy thanks to Malachi's recently increased sensitivity. Probably FITA was right; his potential reached peaks when working with David without the effects of pills, which now were useless.

On one side, it was easier to simply close his eyes and think in a pattern for the images and words to start appearing in his mind. But on the other hand, the sudden, unwillingly black-out suffered just for talking or thinking too much in a pattern, were exhausting.

He had no control over that. Only alcohol seemed to numb his sensitivity, to give him some control, ironically. But just for a while.

 

Taking advantage of his sensibility, Malachi started to track Kahlo's clues by following art news magazines. He found a photograph of her in one of those, and the strong headache he had for observing it gave him the hint. It was her. A woman from Paraguay, whose passion had put together, once again, arts and politics. It seemed that those aspects were entangled in the pattern itself. Hated by her country for having a rough criticism towards her society, she had to exile to Uruguay, which was the only detail in her life that seemed to break Kahlo's pattern so far. But Malachi liked it. That was an interesting deviation.

Using David's old friends in the Army, they could get the first clues for tracking Guevara's pattern. It was inside the Zapatista groups of Mexico, fact that did not surprised David. If an epic fight against a massive monster was taking place somewhere, that man's pattern had to be related to it, somehow. However, it was impossible to find for sure the exact person following such pattern. Further details were impossible to get, considering it was forbidden to go into indigenous lands, so that any attempt to have more information was useless. They only could write a short list of possible men and women that filled Guevara's patterns inside the Zapatista group.

Namboodiripad's pattern was easily found in Afghanistan due to his high activity in political sciences. The man following the pattern was a well-known professor working in Kabul University and used to give congresses here and there about his speciality: authoritarianism. They could arrange a visit to Kabul, but only Malachi went. Despite the guilt of being a bodyguard who could not protect his boss, David was unable to take the flight to that country. Thankfully, Malachi did not spend much time there. A handshake was enough for confirming the pattern.

The last one was Helen Keller, who was spot in Germany. The woman was a writer interested in politics focused mainly in deaf and blind community. She had developed a world-wide funding organization to help deaf people all around the world, using it as a mean to craft her power inside the Party of Democratic Socialism.  
  


Malachi put all the information in folders and observed them. He had obtained fast, efficient results sooner than he had expected. But what had happened with Sonja and the others was still flitting around his mind. Three people were dead. Mistakes should not be repeated. Besides, David had put some moral sense in him after so many hours of long conversation questioning FITA. He could not simply give them all this information and forget everything as long as the dollars were deposited in his bank account.

But what to do?.

He looked at his own mobile and called Dexter. “I have some results, but I need to to talk to you. Personally.”

 

 

They walked inside Dexter's office. Malachi sat in the main chair while David remained behind him, crossing his arms.

“So, did you have results?” Dexter said smiling. Honestly, he was not expecting any until past December. To have something in middle of November was a gift. The Savant's powers were getting stronger over time in company of his warrior.

“Not all...” Malachi said as David looked at him curiously.

“Then... why-?”

“I'm starting to suspect something, and it's bad, Dexter.” Malachi put a folder on the desk, the one related to the Kahlo's pattern, and slid it towards the man. “Everything will lead to this person, but the real one, the real one following the pattern, is elsewhere.”

Dexter frowned as he skimmed the report written in a detailed way. “What do you mean?”

“I have some contacts inside FITA-”

David opened wide his eyes. “What?”

“I know” Malachi looked at him out of the corner of his eye, over his shoulder, “we should not say this, you were against that from a moral point of view. But I think it's necessary. We can trust Dexter, after all.” Now, David was more confused with those words, so he kept playing along what Malachi implied. He crossed his arms and tried to show some kind of <<moral conflict>> in his face. Whatever it could be.

Dexter frowned as he observed David's reaction. “Who are your contacts?”

Malachi chuckled resting his elbows in the chair's armrests and pressing his finger tip one another “And put them in danger?. Never.” He crossed his legs. He was the boss there. “Having these contacts helped me to find these two patterns easily. How would I be able to do so in such short amount of time otherwise? I can't simply dream about these people.”

Dexter scratched his chin, observing the confidence in Malachi's attitude. “So, what do you want to inform me?”

“I'm starting to think that there are more traitors inside FITA. It was not only the Senator Douglas Carter. I think the scientists you are using in Moebius project are giving more complications than solutions”

The more Malachi spoke, the more he could read in Dexter's facial expressions. He was hitting every point, every crack of doubt that the man could have ever had.

“Following patterns of Kahlo, they suggested me to go after a woman who is now exiled. That's a rupture to Khalo's pattern. However, all their suggestions kept me away from the one who truly is.”

Malachi placed another file on the desk. It was the photo of a young woman. Artist. Young. Politically incorrect.

“Is she?” Dexter frowned at the picture.

“She is. And all the information, the leak that these contacts could provide me to make my search easier, were purposely putting me away from her. Of course, it could be a coincidence. I tried to test this once more.” He threw another file, this one of a well known commander of the FARC. “The same happened with this pattern.”

Dexter read quickly the file about the Guevara pattern. “Colombia? Instead Mexico as we guessed?”

Malachi smirked. “It seems you are aware of the aspirants that Moebius project had in mind. Information you got hostage. _Again_.” Malachi forced a bitter tone in his voice with the last word.

“We just wanted to be sure that the project was suggesting feasible options. You were there to make sure they were the correct ones. We were expecting some mistakes in the algorithms, but this is another thing. Now I see this is more complicated than simply calibration.”

“I'm not sure if we should keep investigating the others in the list. FITA is not reliable. What if we are starting to identify people wrongly? And made them have <<accidents>> like happened with Sonja”

Dexter raised an eyebrow, “are you suggesting we are killing them?”

“No. I'm suggesting that, despite the traitors that keep killing them, there are others that try to guide us in a wrong way. What if the traitors are not against a particular pattern, but against the project itself?”

Dexter went pale. Big dark words had been said. “Are you.... are you saying that they are trying to sabotage Moebius?”

Malachi remained silent for a moment, with his look locked on Dexter. It was that kind of pauses he liked to exploit; they helped to increase pressure, to make the other person to fill in the silence, giving him an free room for blowing people's mind. “What if the traitors are trying to destroy the project itself? To show the government how useless it is. That will be the end of it, am I right?”

Dexter blinked several times and rubbed his face. He was shocked.

David kept observing the man heading into desperation. Dexter was simply overwhelmed by the situation, while Malachi was there, cool and cold, as usual. Why Malachi did not say a word of this to him in the apartment during all this time?.

“This is serious” Dexter managed to say.

“Certainly.”

The man sighed loudly and run his finger through his hair. “It's a miracle we have you, Mr. Rector. You are certainly the Savant.” the man looked again at the folders in his desk “I... I will inform you soon what step we will take. So far, keep investigating in your own way the list of people I gave you. We will need more examples like these to understand what's happening.”

Malachi nodded. “Very well. But please, do not forget that my services have a high cost. And I want that money in my account.” He stood up, straightened his shirt and observed Dexter for the last time. “If we are done here, I have work to do with some appraisals.”

Dexter moved his hand in the air. “Go ahead. I'll call you later. Probably after Christmas.”

 

 

Once Malachi stopped the car engine in the parking lot of his building's apartment, he let a long sight to come out, put his arms on the steering wheel, and hid his head in them. Silent during all the ride, David observed the man, not sure what to think. He was still shocked about all that information that had come out from nowhere.

“You should have told me...” David said, feeling betrayed, “I didn't know you had contacts-”

“It's a lie”.

David looked at him with open wide eyes, wondering if that muffled voice had said what he heard. “What?”

“It's a lie. Everything. I was...” he lifted his head and rested his back against the seat, turning his head to David. “... If it were for me, I would just get the money and go to the hell with the world. But it was your idea. To get involved. Because... FITA is wrong. Right?”

David frowned and scratched his head. “so, this was not only for money...."

Malachi looked at his front, "I wish it could. It would be easier. I just asked him to pay me because... otherwise it would be extremely suspicious."

David smiled warmly. Was Malachi doing that for him?. "how all that bullshit will help?”

“I'm forcing them to choose a person to fix the problem which exists on the Inside. They don't know that such problem doesn't exist. Yet. I'm guiding them to choose the one who will make the problem exist.”

David wet his lips, swallowed, and looked straight at his front, through the car's wind-shield. “Wow... man. You are insane.” That was the man he had met in Cairo, indeed. David could not avoid to feel himself absolutely seduced by that brilliant courage to simply destroy everything. "Absolutely, brilliantly insane"

Malachi chuckled.

* * *

 

 

Everyone has a Lion in their inside.

Something to shame, something to hurt, something to damage.

The Lion is always there, enjoyed and enjoying.

The taste of twisted blood dripping from its mouth.

The satisfaction of the most lower instincts.

The Lion, tearing up pleasure, stays there, in the shadows of the inside.

 

* * *

 

 

It was Christmas. A day for resting.

It was the only day in the year that Malachi closed his store.

He hated that date. Everyone was pretending just to get the best family picture. People who did not care about others during the whole year, were gathered to display a happy reunion that only lasted that night. Hypocrisy. Bullshit.

 

He was in his sofa, drinking cocoa, still in his pyjamas. He put his feet on the table and kept checking his smartphone, googling Afghanistan's facts. He could not believe half of the information he found. Afghanistan had had the most progressive women in their time, a long, long time ago. Just before USA started to help the most radical groups in the name of... _democracy_. That old, old, excuse.

 

University students in Kabul 1968.

It had not been so long ago. To think the hell that such country had to face in its daily basis nowadays.

Malachi sighed, and somehow, he understood a bit more what David kept talking to him all the time. Just a bit.

“Oh? Interested in the _old_ Middle East?” David's voice came from behind, pretty close to his ear.

Malachi only looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “I was trying to understand, to find some answers.”

“Mn? To what questions?” David went to the kitchen and prepared himself a coffee. He sat in the other sofa, right in front of Malachi.

“Many. You kept me thinking about this... I was not so aware of its situation, its history...”

“Well, I guess that now you can see...” David looked down, surrounding his hot mug with his fingers, enjoying the warmth. “I can't believe what they did there... What I've helped to enforce.” he clicked his tongue and took a sip.

“The second intervention was more like to fix the first one, right?” Malachi asked, putting his mobile aside.

“I don't know. It was what they told us. But.. I only remember that we were the best excuse for them to get more and more radical...” He looked at his coffee, lost in his thoughts for a long moment until he blinked. “Oh, Please. It's Christmas”

“Neither you nor me are going to celebrate it, right?”

“I don't know, I was thinking to celebrate it with you, Kye. What do you think?”

Malachi chuckled. “Really? How?”

“Unless you have some other plans, I wanted to spend the day telling you some good jokes. I made some new.”

“Unbelievable.”

“What do you call people who are afraid of Santa Claus?”

“Oh, please... don't tell me...”

“CLAUStrophobic”

Malachi laughed. “That was terrible.”

“You see? Not bad to spend the day this way.” Another sip of coffee.

Malachi shook his head gently. He knew what David was doing. “Fine, derail. Let's switch topics”, he took again his smartphone and kept browsing. From a link to another, he ended in Abu Ghraib. Scrolling down those photos had a strange effect on him. After some minutes, maybe because the cruelty there had reached levels hard to endure, his mind stopped thinking in them as real people. People who had lived. People made of flesh and bone. They started to look like special-FX. Like screenshots taken from an indie film. His mind had to stop believing they were actual human beings to keep watching those atrocities, to keep scrolling down, and down, and down. To stand in front of that small screen as a witness of how low humanity had fallen. If that happened with his mind, with him, who was a person simply watching photos... what could have done to David?.

Those photos were a heartless testimony of horror, and a clear proof to understand David's constant rejection to talk about it. Now, Malachi could truly understand it.

 

Curious by the silence and Malachi's absent-mind, David approached him, and sat beside him, maybe closer than he should. He was, after all, in a Christmas mood, playful and spirited. The fact that this was his first Christmas in a place that he could call home, with people that …. well, somehow, cared about him and he cared about them, had made him feel lively.

However, his mood dropped when he saw one of the pictures on the small screen.

“Holy shit!, what are you seeing...” He immediately stood up almost dropping his mug.

“Abu Ghraib scandal”. Malachi said bluntly.

“Fuck, I know, I... can't you... just... look at kittens and puppies in a day like this?”

Malachi sighed and turned off his mobile. “I don't feel this day as a special one.”

“Well, it was not special for me years ago. Now I'm spending this day in a place without bombs around, or trenches, or any commander. That makes it special for me.”

Malachi looked at him, then at his mobile. “You never talk about that... about that old life”.

“You know why...” David looked down, immediately.

“Yeah, of course. The _put-all-behind_ thing. You never stop repeating it.” Malachi approached the small table and took a short sip of cocoa.

David was still standing in front of Malachi. “Ha, sorry for not being your best buffoon. I didn't read that condition when you hired me.”

“It's not about being a buffoon. It's about talking a bit...” Malachi looked up at him. The height difference was deeply marked in their positions.

“Look who says that.”

Malachi twitched his mouth. Yeah, he deserved it. “Fair enough. It... it's only that... I would like to know a bit more about your past.”

“What?, the confidential files you got in your room doesn't answer your questions?”

Malachi raised his eyebrow “How did you know?... were you sneaking around my things? How dare you-”

“Who the hell carries you to your bed after a black-out?” Malachi wanted to say something but he could not. “You got those files on your stand-night. I simply saw it a couple of times”.

Malachi sighed. “And what did you think, are they accurate?”

“I never read them, it's not like I need to read about my own life.”

“Fair point. Anyway. Those files don't answer much...”

“You could have asked me, you know?. After all, we are... f-f-friends?” David hesitated in the last word. It was never clear what to say considering Malachi's perceptions.

“You kept shooing me away. Don't blame me.”

David opened wide his eyes. “Uh? Shooing _you_? _Me_?. When I did that?”

Malachi cleared his voice and mocked another tone “ _I want to put my past behind_ , does it ring a bell?”

“One thing is to shoo someone, another one is to simply... avoid remembering shit. I told you, I don't like to recall my time in the Army. It was not pleasant. I'm full of regrets and I can't do anything but putting all that shit behind.”

Malachi sighed. He could understand, but... damn his curiosity. “Understood. Not about your past in the Army. Point taken. What about you being single everywhere but New Jersey?”

David frowned, then rubbed his face with one hand. “Oh, shit. That's in the army file?”.

“No, it was extra information I got from talking with some old commanders of yours”

“You did... what?. Wow... great...” He rolled his eyes.

“You never told me you were a widower, at least for New Jersey.”

“You never asked.”

“Of course I did.”

“No, you didn't. You asked me once if I had a wife or a girlfriend. I told you that I had no relationships. I didn't lie. It's not like you can have a relationship with a dead anyway”. He sighed and took a long sip of his coffee.

Malachi smirked. That had been a pretty twisted strategy coming from David. “Why concealing it?”

“Do you know the name of the person I married with?” Malachi shook his head, “It was a man. So you must guess it's not something you say aloud everywhere. Not in these times. Not in the army.”

Malachi sighed, “I see. I imagine this is the reason why you stopped talking with your parents.”

“Mn-hn” He took a short sip of coffee. “Yeah, part of it. They never got over with it.”

“Mn. I see.”

“But I have my sister, at least.”

Another silence.

After some hesitant sips, Malachi looked up at the man, who was still standing at his front. “By the way, you are not going to spend Christmas with her?”

“No. My parents do. So, no. She invited me, of course, but... I'm tired of all the shit that happens always. I stopped going to those reunions before joining the Army. And I'm not planning to change that now.”

They kept in silence for another moment. David was looking aside, lost in his thoughts and his coffee.

“When did you realise about it?” Malachi said, surprising David.

“About what?.”

“You... you know, your uncommon interest.”

David blinked first, then chuckled. “Uncommon?” he chuckled a bit more openly. “Like everyone else. Teenage time. Not much interest in girls until your best friend gets one. Jealousy. Weird jealousy for your friend. And suddenly, everything makes sense. And it scares you. Then, you just... give a fuck about everything.”

“Interesting. And was it a problem in the Army?”

David laughed. “Not much as long as you kept it in low profile. You know what they say about being in the Army, if you don't sleep on your back…. someone will. Go figure”. Malachi laughed softly. David was not going to miss the opportunity of saying a bad joke, of course. “And you?”

“Me what?”

“In your case was different?”

“I'm not gay.”

“Uhm...”, David blinked.“No, but you seem to have interest in men as well.”

“No. I'm not interested in anyone.”

David frowned. “Uh...what?... uh... But you... well... you offered me... and that man that punched you-”

“Sex?” Malachi interrupted David's stuttering words, took a long sip of cocoa, and looked up “Sure. But.. it doesn't matter who is.”

Silence. David raised his eyebrows in surprise. Then, a small hurting pain twitched his chest, deep inside, but he hid any small symptom that could surface. “Oh, well, that makes me feel so special now.”

Malachi chuckled. “My apologies. I didn't mean _that_. It's simply how it is. I ask someone who wants the same. We do it. And that's all. It can be anyone. I don't care.” He looked at his cocoa, feeling unsafe.

David looked down. “Really?”

“In fact, it's strange, it's not like I enjoy sex much, but it feels good, unless.. well-”

“Unless?”

“Visions. Touching some people triggers them. I have to stay away from them.” Another sip. A silence. The muffled sound of the city down. “Did you remember that woman in the pub? When you and Gretchen went out together?. She triggered so many visions. I had to drunk myself to deal with the impression.. and..” he looked at one of hands. Small marks of his wounds were still visible. It was the way to control the reality, his past, and all his beasts. He looked down “It must sound strange for others, I know. I just want a pleasant diversion. When you keep looking for something in your life, things get complicated. Without getting involved in anything... is... safer. Recently, some things changed... but not much. I prefer to stay safe. Always.”

David sighed. He knew Malachi's past. He knew what that lion had done to him when he was just a child. He wanted to add something, to tell him that, considering _that_ past, it was more or less understandable. David could relate a bit. He knew how desperate could it be craving for love. It had to be terrifying, especially for a child like Malachi, to find out that there was no place where ask for it. So he grew up convincing himself that he did not need it. It was easier. But at some point people crack, he knew about it.

“You never... got tired of that?” David said.

Malachi looked at him, the distance between them seemed bigger for a fraction of a second. It was a moment of long eye contact, but then he averted his look. The answer was filled with silence.

“At some point in your life, you must get over with your past. Forgive yourself. Forgive your past. And move on.” David insisted.

“Uh?” Malachi raised an eyebrow.

“Look, Kye...” David kept his eyes down, “if you want to tell me about your past, you can do it... but... To be honest, considering that we are talking about this... I also have your profile.”

“I thought you were not spying on me” Malachi said.

“It was not spying. I just wanted to know more about you.”

“Well, you could have asked me!”

“I did!. I've done that all the fucking time! And your answer had always been: _none of your concern_. Fuck that, Kye. Besides... what the fuck, you have my own profile in your room.”

Malachi wanted to say something, but he could not. There was not much room to pretend being offended. Still, he spoke anyway “You forced me to do so... remember? _I want to put all that behind._ ”

Both of them laughed.

“Oh, god, what a pair of assholes we are, right?” David said, still chuckling.

“Indeed.”

They looked at each other, this time more relaxed. The distance did not seem so bigger this time.

“When did you access to my file, may I ask?” Malachi said.

“Just a couple of days after you hired me. I wanted to be sure you were the person you were telling me. Don't blame me. I was part of the Army. Old habits die hard.”

“I see. And do you have some questions?”

“Many. Those files have no much information anyway. I was scared when I saw you taking so many pills, and the files said nothing about that... but well, they do not say anything about visions either” David finished his coffee and put the mug in the table. “Sorry about that. But really, you must have had a tough childhood.”

“No. Tough is not the exact word for describing it.” He said and stopped, closing his eyes. That scream was there again in the back of his mind. _Kye, stay back!._ “Right now I'm hearing it. It always comes. When I'm getting too close.” David remained in silence, observing the man, trying to make sense of his words. “The more I get closer... the more intense the scream is. _Stay back. Stay back. Kye, Stay back._ ”he whispered the last part. “And then, the Lion.” He opened his eyes and looked through the windows. “I had one of the best lives that a child living during the Apartheid could ask for. I'm not stupid. My family was the mess... well, my mother...” Malachi was lowering his voice, so David sat besides him, observing his profile. The distance was shorter than ever. “She died because she was cheating on my father. Divine punishment?. Simply bad luck?. That lion sometimes comes to my mind too. Some days I'm the beast, killing any prey. Some days I'm its prey, like my mother... the thought relaxes me. It's good to be punished for your own stupidity,” he looked at his bruised wrists, “but sometimes it's hard to be the beast not to punish in excess, not to eat alive your penitent” he touched his still marked fingers. “Forgive me. I'm talking nonsense. The thing is, my father was only lost in his work during all that time. I don't know if he cared about her, about what she was doing to him. Or about me. But I was lucky. I had a good childhood.”

“Those are things that a child resent...”

Malachi moved his head and looked at him, “A child? Maybe. A grown man? No. However, sometimes I wonder if I have to blame her or not... But for what it matters now. It's irrelevant. A person can't live all his life in the past. That's what they say.”

“Well, that's a good point. Still yet, I think it's good if you can work on it. Otherwise you keep running away too much from the past, unable to be reached in the present, and never getting over with what you passed through.” David frowned in the same moment he finished his words. They sounded not for Malachi, but for himself. 

“Yeah, you are right.” Malachi said. _Stay back._ “And thank you, I think.” _Stay back._ “this is the first time I say all this aloud”

David put his hand on Malachi's shoulder and squeezed it. “You're welcome”

He did not answered. He simply touched David's jaw and kissed him. Without any resistance, David followed the impulse, and kissed him back. At first timidly, but then deeply and intensely. When Malachi's hands slipped inside his t-shirt and caressed his bare back, David broke the kiss and hid his face in Malachi's throat, recovering his breath.

“Um Kye, please... this is not my thing, don't go there...”

“Uhm, I'm sorry. I was carried away. Forget it...” Malachi stood up and drank the last cold cocoa in his mug. He took David's mug from the table and put them both in the sink. With that long and safe distance between them, he spoke again “Uh... can I ask you something else?” he said while approaching slowly to the sofa.

“Sure...”

“What do you want then?” David frowned confused, so Malachi kept talking, “What should I offer you to accept a night?. You were quite willingly the first time”. 

“I simply don't like _your rule_.”

Malachi laughed, “Oh?. You were expecting what?, commitment?, Marriage?, just for one night?” Malachi kept laughing.

“I don't see what's funny in that. And no, not to that extreme, but maybe... a starting point. Maybe.” David shrugged looking down.

Malachi stopped laughing and raised an eyebrow. “You are quite an unusual man….”

David sighed and looked at him smiling in a mischievous way, “I've heard of that here and then...” they remained in silence for a moment, “so, you never thought about changing your rules?”

“No, never. But... maybe I should think about it.”

“I'd like to heard your thoughts.”

“If I only knew how to express them....” David frowned a bit, confused. “I.. I'd like to get to know you better, David...even though I hardly know how to do so..."

David was surprised and touched at the same time. Malachi was not a person who easily could say such things. “It's not complicated at all, Kye”

David extended his hand in the air, reached Malachi, and pulled him into the sofa again to simply hug him in silence.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

“Here, the documents”. The man said. The man had just entered to the corridor of the main offices of the Base. He was a handsome young man, in his late twenties with strong beautiful features, full eyebrows, harmonic prominent nose, thick lips, dark skin. He approached David, looked behind him, and at both sides, and only then he kissed him lightly on his lips.

David smiled as he took the documents. “You got all done?. That was fast.” David put his hand on that man's back while glancing over the folder.

“It's just a summarized translation. I think your people don't care much about the small delicacy of our language.”

“Yeah. You're right”. David looked down, patting the man.

The man smiled for a couple of seconds while observing David's face. Then, slowly, his gesture turned worrisome. “By the way... there is something you need to know. Just in case.”

David's heart raced. _Just in case_ was a strong phrase. _Just in case_ could not mean anything but serious problems. Suspicions were always directly related to death, that was how things had been working in that country for so long, so _just in case_ was always the case. “What?”

“I think my people is getting charmed by them. If they reach the city's authorities, the law will be merciless, everywhere... and I... I won't be able to skip it.”

David swallowed and whispered, “God. You are in danger now...”

“Not _now_. Not like we could say _now_ , _now_. But things are not getting better.” The man looked both sides again.

“Your family?”

The man shook his head slowly, looking down. “I'm... out of my family. I have none anymore”

David walked toward an empty office, pushing the man's back gently into it, then he locked it, left the folder on a precarious table close to him, and held the man by this shoulders, lending his face close to him. He whispered in pain. “What? When that happened?”

A long sigh came from the man. “Just a week ago, you were in the field. I couldn't tell you. Somehow... they know it now. About us. I'm done.”

David blinked due to the shock, and only a couple of seconds he hugged him tightly. The man embraced him as well, and hid his face in that neck, restraining some tears. “I'm so sorry, Ammar, God. This can't be happening just right now.”

“It is.”

The squeezed each other to release the pain of the news. When they could pull themselves together, they took a bit of distance, but kept in the embrace.

“I will get you some protection from the army. You were working a lot with the translations for us, they can't overlook that.” David said.

The man smiled mistrustfully. “I hope so. By now, I need to stay with low profile, not to bring more attention on me. On us. I need no more relatives with an exalted sense of honor too willing to defend.”

“What can they do? Conversion therapy doesn't exist here, does it?”

The man chuckled. “No. I wish, though. _Just_ public whippings.”

David raised his eyebrows, painfully. Then, he embraced him again and spoke close to Ammar's ear. “I'll talk with some superiors, see if you can live in our base.”

The man remained silent for a long moment, until he looked at David with teary eyes and kissed him lightly. “I think... I think we should... get out of here. Things are getting worse. And.. I won't lie to you, _I'm scared_. If they got power, if they know I helped  <<the enemy>>... and more than that...”

David caresses Ammar's lips with a finger. “Shh. I promise you I will bring you with me to USA. I won't leave you. Promise.”

 

David awoke thirsty. His hands were slightly shaking, and a thing thicker than a rock was stuck in his chest. He wiped out his tears and rubbed his face, sitting on the edge of the bed, with his hands on his head. That dream had been a fucking low blow.

* * *

 

They left Dexter's offices and got on a black limousine. The trip took a couple of hours until they stopped outside the city, close to a forest. There was a small rickety house that surprised Malachi at first, and worried him in a second thought. What if they were going to be rid by FITA?. Why if their work had been good until then? What if... He stopped thinking. He observed Dexter that went into the house, having to struggle a bit with the terrain due to his wheelchair. That place could not be part of a governmental agency. Malachi did a gesture to David, just to be sharp in case of things went south.

Once inside, they could see that the place lacked of any division and forniture, and in a corner, a well camouflaged lid hid a secret door down into the underground.

Pressing a button in the wall, the lid slided and allowed them to step on a plataform which started to go down slowly. It stopped once they reached a small room underground that had an elevator.

“Here we are. The core of Moebius project.” Dexter said while guiding them to those doors. He used a pasword in the padlock and the elevator turned on. They took it.

The floor where they stopped was a highly iluminated complex of white corridors and rooms called Floor -5; a fancy denomination. They walked along those corridors extremely white and bright to an enormous room, full of computers and people dressed in white who were working mind-absent, ignoring the guests.

Dexter approached a mature white woman, who smiled at him at the sight. Then, with more reservation, she looked at the new guests with a raised eyebrow.

“Mr. Rector, Mr. Walker, this is Sofia Hegel, our leader in the last stages of the cleaning procedure of pattern information” Dexter pointed at her with his open palm.

“Nice to meet you, Savant. It's a pleasure.” She said, giving Malachi a handshake. Immediately after that, his knees faltered and a sudden dizziness took over his head. David stepped forward and got him before falling.

Both Dexter and Hegel looked at each other for a brief moment, curious.

“Is he okay?” Hegel said.

“He is a bit exhausted” David answered.

Dexter knew quite well what that sudden symptom meant. Still yet, he kept talking ignoring the event, “Well, Mrs. Hegel, I would like to show the facility to Mr. Rector, and to explain to him how the project works.”

She smiled proudly and nodded.

They walked along many big rooms full of super computers, always accompanied by Mrs. Hegel. In the rooms, she explained to them, the computers were working non-stop with long complex search processes. On one side, they had thousands of machines compiling and processing every person from History. From the most famous figures to the most forgotten ones; all of them were taken into account as long as a paper record could exist nowadays as a proof of such existence. On the other hand, more computers collected every person's information all around the world, building a massive world-wide database of people alive. These fresh entries were the result of gathering all the footprints that person could leave on the Internet. From social networks activities to institutions' inner profiles; every piece of information of a singular person, even the most insignificant one, was added to the database. The last process of the algorithm was a massive comparison of each historical figure with every person alive all around the world.

"This is unbelievable. It's absolutely illegal to take personal information from governmental institutions, hospitals or schools. There are terms of agreement that are being violated here." Malachi said, unable to contain his outrage.

"It's not like we don't know about this. But there are bigger things at stake" Mrs Hegel answered.

“It doesn't matter. This is a violation to the trust of citizens.”

“They would agree with us anyway if we tell them it's for their best.”

“Their best?. Last time we checked, all this was about the economy’s sake-”, David squinted at Dexter, “-which never cares for the people”.

Dexter smiled at Malachi, “it's good to see the level of moral sense that Mr. Walker brought to you, Mr. Rector.”

“He didn't bring a thing to me. And don't change the topic”. Malachi looked at him awkwardly for a fraction of second. “One thing is to stalk a Facebook account, another thing is to have your health records for free access to everyone. Nobody informed that this was going to happen. We are talking about sensitive data”.

“I understand, but it's not as if we were giving such information to everyone. It's not for free access.”

“No. It's for _your_ access. That doesn't make the violation less illegal.”

“Look, I understand your worries, but they are misplaced. Whether we informe this or not, it isn't going to change anything, and it is going to be a waste of resources. Just look at the social networks. They change their privacy policy all the time, and users still remain. The most unbelivable policy is to keep the information of the users several years after such user deleted the account. Did you see someone abandoning their social network? Sure, they complain a bit, but nothing changes. They keep publishing sensitive information of themselves in there, with or without change of the policy. To go further, even protests are arranged through that fragile mean. It's not like they don't know. They simply decide to ignore that someone else is taking their information.” Mrs. Hegel said and chuckled.

David looked down. He had been aware of this for more than a decade ago. That was how things were working for a long, long time.

Malachi clenched his teeth. “This is illegal nevertheless.”

“So many things are illegal, Mr. Rector. Still yet, they are used for the best interests.”

The silence fell, and only their steps along the corridor were heard. After a moment, they finally reached the end to enter an enourmous room where a huge super-computer was processing information to fast speed, displaying in its screen several profiles that did not last for more than a fraction of second.

Mrs. Hegel leant her weight on the console and looked at her guests. “The algorithm does all the work.” she pointed at the big screen, “you put the person's pattern that you want to find, the algorithm searches into the History, gathering all the facts in all sources we have nowadays all around the world. Then, it starts matching the information with every person in the world, now. After some hours of process, sometimes days, sometimes weeks or months, we find the living person that matches it better.”

Malachi frowned, observing the profiles appearing and disappearing franticly on the screen, “That can't offer one single name.”

“Good observation, Mr. Rector. Exactly. Ideally, that's what it should do. That's why we are still working on this project. But most of the time we have lists with millions of names, and we are developing additional algorithms that can clean those results. There is not a single algorithm with an efficiency of 100% for all the searches. So far we got, we still need a Savant's help to calibrate the procedure. We need to be sure about the rightness in the designations of person-pattern, so we can refine the code over and over. The more you identify, the more accurate it will turn.”

“Someday you won't need a Savant at all, right?” David asked.

Everyone remained silent, and only the woman chuckled after a moment. “I don't think so. Savants are precious, and it's hard to believe that this code will be perfect some day. We will always need the confirmation of a Savant.”

Mrs. Hegel showed them some rooms more and returned to her work, leaving the group alone to return by their own.

 

It was evening when they took the limousine. As fast as they got inside, Dexter looked at Malachi, anxious. “So?” Malachi raised an eyebrow, “I know you got a vision when you gave Mrs. Hegel a handshake.”

Malachi sighed and let the silent fill the air for a couple of seconds. That was the way to build tension, to build vulnerability. Then, he moved his head slowly, giving to his words a more dramatic tone. “This is bad, Dexter. I saw Cassius Longinus there. If you know History...”

Dexter went pale. “The mind behind Caesar assassination.”

David said nothing but he could see it. He saw the bluff under that serious face. Malachi was giving his first step of the plan.

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

“I'll buy them” Malachi accepted what his fellow offered to him. New art pieces were going to bring the attention of more clients. He observed the rest of the antique store for the last time, to be sure not to overlook any valuable piece that could add to his own business. However, only when he went to his fellow's office, he found a couple of silver rings exhibited in a cabinet, with a fine old design engraved. They had Celtic patterns all over it. He observed them from different angles, dragging the attention of his colleague.

The man opened the cabinet and gave Malachi the small tray with the rings for a better inspection. “These are extremely rare." the man added, "They were made in the 3th century B.C., probably. Found in the Coast of Spain, where some Celtic communities were established there in a permanent way. Those rings are considered a sign of commitment among Celt warriors as you might know. It was a tradition to find a partner in war, and stick with him until the last day. That bond was represented in these rings.”

“So, the silver ring thing, but among Celtic men.”

The man laughed. “Oh, no. It's not as the current tradition of the silver rings. Purity until marriage?, definitely not. The rings meant commitment, not boredom. You know, Celts.”

Malachi smiled. “Oh, the famous bonding rituals”.

“Exactly so.”

Malachi looked at the rings and could not resist to buy them. There was something in them that dragged him. As if it were almost a memory of something he never lived. A memory of a vision in which he was looking at his hands, and two small things glittered in them. Or simply it was an excuse, a dark, hidden desire that timidly had surfaced there. Right there.

* * *

 

“ _Breaking News: Markhan is the new President of the USA. He will make America great again.”_

 

The TV screen was broadcasting the people in the event, the screams, the joy, the flags. All that over-acted spectacle that was inflated by the media with partial angles and additional epic music. It was like a reality show full of embellishing edition.

The Senator Markhan and his current wife Helene waved their hands to the camera. Different journalists announced that soon, the new president and his wife were going to give a mind-blowing speech that would do History. But everyone knew what was going to be: the rancid, overused political speech about love, about the unique determination that such new administration had, and about a bright future for those who needed more hope, decorated with some overused fake sentence of _we can_.

A completely ridiculous show.

Malachi snorted.

It was bullshit.

He poured boiled water in his teacup and drank carefully. He was in a corner of the kitchen counter, observing now and then what David was doing: cutting carrots, cooking sauce, frying silverside fishes. It was a recipe from South America. It smelled quite well.

Bored by the news on the screen, Malachi turned in his seat and looked through the window while the TV kept going on with its noise.

 

“ _This is such a great day for our country and for the rest of the world, because, yes, the world has won with this too. The new president Markhan is going to offer his speech in a minute, soon. We still don't know who are going to be his secretaries, but it's said that his economical plan is magic, it will fix the crisis, not regionally speaking, but all over the world. He is confident that-”_

 

David shut down the TV, put the meal in the oven, and cleaned his hands in the dishcloth. Moebius project was behind all that paraphernalia of an election. And they were screwing it. He was not sure anymore if that was a good thing, the project was meddling the highest ranks of power, but it was better not to over-think about it. It was a delicate topic. And he wanted to have dinner in peace.

He looked at Malachi, who was lost in his own thoughts watching through the window, and observed him from up and down. The man was wearing black clothes, as usual. Nothing special, nothing that could drag much attention on him. To think that such slender man could be so twisted to plan the destruction of a governmental agency made him smile. That was hot, he could not deny it. A sole man to mess with everyone in FITA and made them fail so ominously that nobody will ever put a cent in their work. Holy fuck if that subtle power was not hot.

David sighed. He wished he could have found him before joinig the war. Somehow, in his fantasy, Malachi could have been able to destroy the Taliban themselves just with his fancy words and twisted plans. And maybe then... a lot of people would be alive by now. He bit his lower lip and sighed again. It hurt him to think in that. It always hurt. But, dreaming was free, right?. Free, but useless. What had been done was done, and those who were dead would never come back. It was good to remember that sometimes.

He blinked when Malachi took a sip of tea. David had fixated his look on him for a long while, lost in thoughts, and did not realise that the slender man was looking him back with a raised eyebrow. However, none of them neither talked nor averted the eye contact. David turned to check the oven, and only then, the strange, awkward situation was gone. 

 

They ate in silence, observing one another at different pace. They preferred that awkward situation instead of the TV and its non-stop flow of news about the president.

“Delicious meal.” Malachi said observing his own dish, looking down for the first time.

“Thanks.” David kept looking at the man.

Malachi lifted his look just a bit, to find David's and then, looked down again.

“You have been too quiet. Something is bothering you?” David said placing the cutlery aside his plate.

“Basically, everything.”

David remained silent, trying to identify what _everything_ meant. Could it include him?. “I know I'm not much of a help here, but... if it helps: I think you did right. FITA must be stopped. Destroying-”

“That doesn't worry me. I can't care less about that agency per se” David tilted his without saying a word, “what bothers me is all this about visions, and patterns, and... well. All the questions that they rise. Are we free? Can we decide by ourselves?. What's the nature of the events?. Your president is now a person whose pattern was destined to be what it is now. So, what does your vote mean in all this?. Does your vote reflect your decision? Is this your choice?. Questions can go further.”

After a second of silence, David took the meal from the oven and served both, giving Malachi his dish. “I see... well, if he is going to fix something...”

“That's... a poor excuse for easy resignation.” David looked at him narrowing his eyes, “I mean, if everything is bad and horrible, let's just focus on what's not so terrible. What's good in that?.”

“Well, what would you suggest then?. When you don't have the power to change reality, you simply try to adapt to it in the best way you can.”

“I'm not saying you need to fix the situation yourself. That could be, and most of the times _is_ , out of your reach. However, being content with a terrible, bad situation?. Simply content?”

“What would the situation improve if you anger or grieve for that? You can get sick with your anger… will that help in anything?”

“Of course not. But at least it will be the starting point of something. Maybe it's the main point where someone else, more powerful or with the means, listens to your complaints and changes things. Or gives you the chance to do so.”

“Sure, because there are a lot of powerful people out there desperately waiting to help the weak.” Sarcasm had a particular strong impact in David's voice.

Malachi twitched his mouth before continuing, “In any case, contentment doesn't work at all. Anger?, that's another thing. Angry people will reach their limit and explode, changing things. Content people?. No, they just stay in the same place talking about the good side of every mediocre or terrible situation.”

David smiled. Certainly that idea was strange to listen coming from Malachi. Especially considering those words were a kind of reflection on him.

“But, anyway, it's not only this that bothers me.” Malachi continued.

“Uh?” David ate a mouthful of his meal.

“The visions. They always are… something.”

“I know, you keep having black-outs. Though, it's been a while since the last one, right?”

“It's true. Let's wish that stays that way. But, lately I've been having more visions. But they changed the way they come to me. It's more usual to see them in my dreams. I won't complain, they don't tear my head apart…” He stopped his words abruptly.

“But?”

“They are not reassuring. I mean, they are. And that's why they are so non-reassuring.”

David frowned. “What?”

Malachi folded his hands. “I live what I see in those visions. I'm not a mere witness anymore when they are related to… Benedict de Mont Froi. These visions made me feel, what's like to have a lasting thing, a more reliable bond. In them, I've felt things I've never had. The moments shared between the crusader… it's hard to describe...”

“Idealization? Maybe?” David drank a bit of soda.

“Hardly. I had visions in which the abbot almost lost his knight. The despair, the pain in the apparent loss, the uncontrollable regret of not doing enough to save his life… I felt that. In the visions, and in Qatar. They were the same.” Malachi sighed slowly and looked down.

“Isn't your mind simply connecting what you think it should have been?”

“When you almost died in Qatar… All this made me think that… maybe…. There is something more that I can access. Something that I've never tasted. The… peace I always feel in those visions. In that bed…” he frowned “could it be possible? To have something like… that?”

“And?. Do you want to find out?” David told him smirking.

Malachi lowered his head. _Hell yes. Of course, but_ … His rule. The incompatibility of it with David's rules, his aversion to any relationship, the uneasy feeling that everything in his life was a product of a pattern, the annoying curiosity that maybe the answer was in a one-stand night. “I don't know.”

David blinked, “You don't know?”

“I keep wondering about my own actions. This puts me in an insecure place. What I feel is mine or is just... you know, a pattern?. I'm not owner of myself anymore. Not of my own experiences, not even in the way I react to them. I am but a pattern.”

David lowered his head, understanding the struggle. It was hard to deal with all this stuff of Moebius. It was a terrible truth without turning back.

* * *

 

That evening Dexter had invited him to the facility one more time to keep cleaning Moebius project. The man was extremely worried for the uncovered truth that he had exposed.

It was not a mere pointing with a finger to the most important scientists inside the facility. It was not so easy. He had to make it believable. And for doing so, he had to craft long arguments with deep history research to accuse them. Not mere excuses. Strong, reliable profiles of historical figures that could be related to their personality. Such work had to be so fine that neither Dexter nor anyone else inside FITA could have second thoughts about his actions.

So far, it had been working well. He had cleaned the facility of a lot of people who was following the pattern of famous computer scientists such as Ada Lovelace, al-Khwārizmī, Alan Tuning, George Boole or Konrad Zuse. Instead, he had linked them with famous pirates, scammers, mafia leaders, and History big traitors that shared some aspects of their lives, forcing the pattern to fit in the most creative ways. When History could not help him to craft the story, he always could use the concept of archetypes, something he managed well due to his line work. Allegories had always had a strong presence in antiques. If he and David were representing archetypes, why another people would not do the same?.

David barely could believe what Malachi had done so far without being uncovered. Half of FITA had almost lost its most important assets. That man was unbelievably worth fearing.

 

With the plan working on, the facility personnel had decreased, so that day Malachi could sneak into an empty room easily and search for sensitive information about the project in the main net. He wanted to know not only the magnitude of the harm he had done to it, but also the depth of the project itself. After all, he knew that Dexter never told him every detail.

As soon as they were alone, headed into a big room. David stuck the door with a chair, looked around for cameras and hacked them to keep showing the same image for hours. Meanwhile, Malachi browsed in the main database of the project, copying anything that could be interesting while leaving bombs of viruses in the kernels. He was going to wipe out all the archives during the night.

Suddenly, a sub-project's name got his attention.

"Savants Project". His fingers froze on the keyboard, hesitating. Should he enter or not?. Any new secret of the project was a burden to his mind. He was not sure if he wanted to know this one. But as always happened, his curiosity was stronger than any desire or fear.

He looked inside quickly. There was a green folder with his name, and thousand of others in red. He was short of time for reading all that there, so he made a copy into his pen-drive and planted the digital bombs without second thoughts.

Unseen, they left the facility giving to Dexter another set of profiles of scientists that could be dangerous for the project, wiping out with them the last important scientists of the project.

 

Once they returned to the apartment, Malachi took David's laptop and checked the copy of the Savant project. Scared for a possible shock, he first explored different red folders, just to give himself enough time and information to guess what that folder could contain about him.

He started with Anabela Ferreira, from Brazil. She had been forced to live in the Amazon, and a puma had killed her mother. Her father was part of FITA and approved all the experiments that were needed in his little girl. The project also had found a person that was supposed to work as her warrior, a young man that failed as a guardian because he had focused his life in literature. But still yet the project continued, considering that his inability to fight physically was a mere deviation of the pattern due to modern society. Anabela killed herself as a consequence of a long-lasting depression. The warrior followed after her.

Another red folder was Andor Terek, from Hungary. He had lived in a mountain. His mother simply died because a stumble, falling from a cliff. His father immediately called FITA and forgot about his son. They found his warrior, an ex policewoman from Germany, that died with him in an aeroplane accident. Maybe for some dramatic addition the report detailed that they were burned in the tragedy.

The horror of the stories contained in those red folders had already twisted Malachi's face, but still yet he found enough strength to enter into a third one. This time was Priyanka Iyer, from Bageshwar, in India. She lived in a small town, and her mother died from a heart attack. Another small deviation from the pattern that the project decided to overlook. Her father was put in contact with FITA and due to his poverty he offered her to the Agency, wishing for her to get a better future. The girl had a blessed mind, she was a genius, but never got along with what FITA designated as her warrior, another Indian woman who simply disappeared from New Dheli. Priyanka ended as an immigrant in USA cleaning bathroom despite her brilliance.

 

David was sat by his side reading with him those folders. He placed his hand on Malachi's knee and squeezed it. It was a gesture of presence, of support. Enough to give Malachi the strength to open the green folder.

The implications transpired from the red folders made the air hard to breathe.

Hesitating, Malachi double-clicked on his name and opened some extra files that the other folders did not have. They were reports explaining how the algorithms had suggested him as a future Savant with 99% of chances of success only if several conditions were forced immediately.

Among these requirements: his mother had to be killed by a wild animal at the Savant's age of eight, and his father had to be put aside, in order to isolate the Savant as much as possible to resent social interactions. Even the suggestion to live in Gunteng was there too, explicitly.

That was the reason behind that strange lifestyle he had when he was a child, living in a rural zone despite the complications that it added to his family. It also explained why that lion had appeared from nowhere. There was an extra folder with the results of all the tests that he had been exposed since he was born: blood test, psychological ones, IQ, etc. It was not because his family was worried about their child's health. It had always been the project. All his life had been engineered.

Malachi rested his back against the sofa and looked up at the ceiling, processing the shocking truth. A gentle hand squeezed his knee once again, but he simply ignored it.

After a minute, he partially recovered himself and read more folders, not so sure why. Maybe he wanted to find some kind of comfort in the disgrace of others. Maybe he simply wanted to disconnect himself for the sudden shape that his reality had taken so suddenly.

Watching folders mind-absent, his thoughts repeated the same: all of those people had failed as potential Savants. The only one that was still working was him. The only successful experiment, key for developing the algorithms and reinforcing the theory of Meobius, was him.

 

After minutes of silence, Malachi lowered the screen of the laptop and walked to a small cupboard from where he took a bottle of whisky. He drank a couple of sips without a glass, approaching the windows and looking through them to the city. David remained in the sofa, observing him thoroughly.

The muffled sound of the city down put him in the mood to finally speak. “So.. there it is. The proof that all my life was just an experiment for these crazy people. Nothing but an experiment. A set of initial conditions. The result of a mere probability.” He pressed his forehead against the glass of the windows, closing his eyes.

When David was going to say something and stand up, Malachi went upstairs and closed his room door. It was a matter of minutes when the screams got David's attention, who rushed to the place. Malachi was in the ground, held by those damned rings, convulsing harder than he had ever seen. David knelt beside him and tried to do all what he could; touching his forehead, pressing his chest, holding his hands contorted into claws, keeping quiet the compulsory tremble of his legs. The panic attack lasted half an hour, and probably stopped due to Malachi's exhaustion. He did not awoke, so David freed him from the rings and put him in the bed. He stayed beside him, sat in the edge of the bed, listening the muffled sounds of the city far down, while his hand brushed gently Malachi's forehead.

* * *

 

“You were right. Although it was too late” Dexter said to an mind-absent Malachi. He took some seconds to react, blinked several times and had troubles to focus on. “Are you okay?”

“I'm perfect. Just tired.” Malachi said in his most shuttered tone. “Were you saying?”

“Half of the project was lost. We got some attacks, immediately after we kicked those that you suggested.”

“I'm not surprised. I'm always right”. Although his words were strong, Malachi's confidence was not there. He was sounding unlike of him. Empty. A hollow body using his voice.

“That's why we need you more than ever. We need you to find Milton Friedman's pattern. And the rest of the people in the list I gave you-”

The old man did not end his words. Malachi had just slid a couple of folders on his desk with the fake information of the rebels. “These are the people. The economist, though... that one will be hard to find.”

Dexter skimmed the folders, “We are running out of time.”

“We'll do what we can... it's all what we have been doing all this time...” He said and left the place.

David was going to follow him when Dexter called him. “Mr. Walker, Do you know what happens to him?”

“Exhaustion, Sir. The seizures, the stress. I worry about him.” it was the first excuse that came up into his mind. In fact it was a bit mixed with the truth, more than he wanted to.

“But... were not his seizures getting under control since... well, since you meet him?”

“I was not aware of that, Sir”. David said. The good ol' speech never failed him. Faking ignorance was almost a virtue inside the Army.

“But you two... didn't you become...?” David looked at him a bit in guard, a small gesture that Dexter perceived immediately, smoothing his words. “Are you two getting along?”

“Sure. Partners in investigation, Sir.”

Dexter nodded and looked trough the windows while David left the office.

* * *

 

The lion is in everyone. They say.

They like to say it is always inside.

The lion is always too convenient for leaving behind.

* * *

 

It had been almost a week since the last time Malachi had talked to anyone, using more than four mono-syllables. They were working on the economist's pattern; but the conversations related to it were short questions answered with more mono-syllables. Every night in the apartment the silence was filled with the sound of the TV, eating in a mind-absent state, going to their rooms without exchanging more than a good night here and there.

That morning was not different. Malachi got up early and started to prepare coffee while David did the toasts. The breakfast was silent and calm, and only when they were arriving to the store, Malachi stopped in front of a florist, changing the usual, gray rutine. He bought a small flowerpot with forget-me-not flowers and gave it to Gretchen when they entered the store.

Malachi went to his office immediately while David and Gretchen faked a small talk until they felt that they could speak freely.

“Now, tell me the truth. What's happening?” Gretchen whispered close to David.

“I don't know. Maybe the end of the world?” David tried to force a joke, but he was also down. The joke lacked of his usual enthusiasm, and turned opaque.

Gretchen twisted her lips, “Something happened between you two, right?”

“No... it's not that...”  
“I told you David, don't go there. There is nothing. You will be left alone in a whole empty place, with your heart in your hands. Bleeding.”

David could not tell her the truth about them, about Moebius, about all that madness that was now on the top of the country. It was too dangerous for her to know. It was also too personal for sharing. He simply sighed. “I don't know, that sounds pretty bloody, don't you think?”

“Mm-hm. Keep joking to derail.”

David crossed his arms and snorted. “C'mon, Gretchen. Give me a break.”

She looked at the plant in her hands. “It's strange he gave me this, it's my birthday. The meaning... disturbs me a bit.”

David looked at the flowerpot too. “Oh, happy birthday then...”

She was going to speak when Malachi's office door opened and the man inside asked for David. Gretchen simply stepped aside for David to pass, and any conversation attempt disappeared.

 

He entered the office and observed Malachi working on his computer.

“Just, give me a second” Malachi said.

“Sure”. He looked around and focused on one painting. The tower in the desert. There was a strong sense of isolation emanating from it. David felt uncomfortable and wondered why had never noticed it before.

“Do you like it?” Malachi said, observing him.

“I'm not sure if _like_ is the word. It makes me feel... lost.”

Malachi clicked several times and kept typing for a while, “I like it exactly for that. A useless tower, in an aggressive desert, with a deadly storm coming on. So much defence in a place that nobody wants to attack. However, there is a real danger ahead, threatening the tower, but there is no way to stop that kind of danger. What's going to destroy it... is something that there is no way to defend against. That's why the painting shows isolation, powerlessness, and the perception of a terrible fate.”  
David looked at the paint again. “Wow. All that?”.

“All that”. Malachi sighed and looked down.

David approached him and squeezed his shoulder, sliding his hand close to his nape. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

Malachi simply shook his head slowly. “Am I doing a terrible job in hiding it?”

“A bit.” David chuckled, “Do you want to go to your apartment? We can watch a silly TV program, eat something good I'm planing to cook, home-made 100%. Do some exercise? Working out helps to feel less down. Since I live in your apartment I've never saw you in your gym room.”

Malachi smiled and looked up to meet David's eyes. “You, certainly, are too good for me.”

David fixated his eyes in Malachi's while smiling and pressing gently his nape.

What was happening with that cold man? His confidence was slipping among his fingers like sand, his fear was peering through the cracks of his image.

Moebius had mortally wounded Malachi.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

Everyone has a Lion inside that enjoys breaking things. That enjoys being broken.

Everyone has a Lion with a sense of justice. Tiny, timid, trembling sense. But it is always there. Hidden.

Everyone has an illusion of a Lion, the perfect excuse to any action.

 

But, it is a matter of time to realise that the Lion was never there.

It was never here.

Had it ever existed at least?

* * *

 

If they had a code that could know the initial conditions needed for a person to become a Savant, a modified version of it could revel the ones needed for Friedman's patterns. That was his immediate conclusion. Without wasting time, he opened the code, but it was too complex and long for him to simply understand. He only had hacked few things in his life, and most of them had been simple systems made by people pretending to develop high security software, not actual professionals. And there was a substantial difference. He, certainly, needed FITA's help. How would he ask them without exposing his responsibility in the last digital attacks that the agency had experienced?. That was a really good question.

There was, however, a risky way: to talk with Dexter directly, suggesting ideas in order to manipulate his way of thinking into that. A brief method of inception. It required a high degree of manipulation that he was not sure he could handle properly, but there were not many more options. They needed a modified code that could detect Friedman's patterns.

He called Dexter to meet him in a couple of hours in FITA's office. With a refined combination of disdain and professionalism, he asked Dexter several questions that followed a subtle order. It was not chance that after a couple of minutes talking about Friedman's pattern, the conclusion came alone from Dexter's mouth: they had to modify the code. Marvellous idea, he said to him, satisfied by his own skill. It was impossible to detect it unless a person knew the method beforehand. And it had worked.

The suggestion that maybe some scientists could modify the base code to find Friedman came from Dexter's mouth, even though he did not like the idea once he spoke it aloud. That was a bad symptom. Despite being his own suggestion, Dexter knew that such proposition was going to bring more problems to the already highly problematic agency. But his resistance disappeared when he looked at the quote that was always in the corner of his desk and finally was at peace with his decision.

Malachi knew it was a matter of time for Dexter and company to start suspecting his real intentions in all this. He was running out of time.

 

Accompanied by David, Malachi met Dexter again in the entrance of the hidden facility.

“I don’t like this”. Dexter said in the elevator. “Let me tell you I don’t really like this.”

Malachi did not risk to ask about it. He preferred to keep it in the air, in a vague bad omen. It was better than digging further and realising he had been victim of manipulation.

Sadly, David did not realise it. “Why?. What's wrong?.”

Malachi frowned. _Damnnit, David._ However, Dexter's response was not what he expected.

“I know this will be hard for you...” Dexter kept observing Malachi, “but he is the only one who will be able to alter the code. After all, he was who developed most of it in its final stage-”, he sighed. "If we weren't so short of time, I wouldn't be doing this, Mr. Rector.”

Once they left the elevator, Dexter spoke with several workers of the facility until a sophisticated assistant guided them to a small subway station. The place where they were going had only access through a long, barely illuminated tunnel underground, connecting other facilities with this one.

"I'll leave you with her" Dexter said pointing the assistant with his open palm. "I have much work to do yet. I'll see you again once you get results". Dexter looked at Malachi who nodded silently.

Following the assistant, David and Malachi got on the train.

 

 

“Why this person is not with the rest of you?” David asked while the lights appeared and disappeared with the fast movement of the train. They have been there for fifteen minutes.

“He is an outsider, but has been working with us for many years. He is a brilliant computer mathematician.”

Malachi, who had been absent-minded during the whole trip, frowned and looked at her. A horrible hunch hit his chest. It felt as if his heart had stopped for a couple of seconds. “Can we know his name?” He asked.

“His name... uh" the woman hesitated "... is Zechariah”

Malachi deepened his frown even more, hit by memories and doubts. “Surname?”

The assistant remained silent for a second. “Dexter told me to be careful with you-”

“Surname” Malachi raised his voice. It was an order. Surprised, David looked at him, trying to guess the real situation.

She sighed and finally spoke, “Rector.”

After the shock, Malachi rubbed his face, giving his back to the assistant, and pressing his head against the window of the carriage. This was the last thing he needed.

 

Getting off the train they found another twin facility like the one they had left behind. This one, however, was saturated of supercomputers, and few people were walking along the corridors. The assistant guided them to the main computer laboratory and left them there. The way back to the subway station was simple enough to wait them there without being witness of a horrible scene that was going to happen soon.

Inside the laboratory they found an old man of deep frown and white hair. It was around his seventies. He was typing at high speed in front of a big black screen which displayed endless lines of commands. Although time had passed, and the man was now an elder, it was easy to guess certain past beauty. David could immediately understand the relationship between Malachi and that man. The resemblance was too obvious.

“So, they finally came here. What for?, I wonder not. Should not they be working already?” the old man said to nobody, typing non-stop.

Malachi looked down and sighed. "We came to talk. We need to modify-"

“I know what you want. Dexter told me.” he pushed Enter, looked around for his cane, and approached his uninvited guests. “Well, come to my office to speak privately. Let's see what you want for solving this mess.”

They followed him a couple of meters and entered into a spotless office aside the main supercomputer. This small office had only one painting that caught Malachi and David's attention: the old tower in the desert. Malachi clenched his teeth and made a mental note to burn the one he had in his own office.

“To think I would meet you here...” Malachi said trying to force a coldness he was not pulling out properly.

“You didn't come here for familiar reunions, right?. So, don't bother.”

“I was not planing to, old man.”

Zechariah squinted at him, then at David. “I know why you both came here. I know what you've done. Pft. Don't think that such mediocre work with the security was undetected."

"Nobody said a thing while we walked here." David said with surprise.

"Because I hid it. Pft. Just follow my advice: don't mess anymore. What you've done is enough. Trust me.”

David raised an eyebrow. “Did you reported-”

“No. Like I said: I didn't report a thing. Do you understand simple English sentences?” Then, he looked at Malachi and sighed. “I have many regrets already. I don't want more to the list” he took a folder from his desk drawer and pressed it against David's chest. “I know what you are up to. You can't fool me. Take this, do what you have to... and never come back.”

David opened the folder and skimmed several profiles of people that seemed to follow Friedman's pattern. So, the code had been done already, and had been run too. That had been too fast, even for a genius – this, certainly, had been done many months ago- . David touched Malachi's shoulder to push him gently to the exit, but the man simply dodged him and approached the old man.

Zechariah frowned at Malachi. “Now is it you who doesn't understand English? Need a translation into Afrikaans?”

“You... you offered me to this, right?”

“Oh, goodness. Can you just leave?. I have no time for drama. And you have work to do.”

“You know what we did. Fine. You know that I know. So, let me understand why. Unlike the others, I'd been tested before mom died. Blood tests, head scans, mental tests. I was always under surveillance. Not like the other potential… savants. That peculiarity makes me assume that you were working on this before I was ever born. Am I right?”

“What do you want?. An apology?” the old man leant all his weight on his hands who rested on the cane.

Malachi pressed his lips in a fine line and looked down. He seemed to crack at any moment but somehow, he managed to keep strong. “I was not simply a child that happened to lose his mother by accident. Since my birth you were crafting this. Right?. And you sent that beast...”

The man looked down for a couple of seconds, lost in thoughts, then he spoke glaring at Malachi “Her death broke my soul, if that counts for something to you. Probably not. But what's done is done.”

“Why? Why you offered your family to a damned agency? What did you want to accomplish?” Malachi looked at the man that he barely could call father; the mental image of what that word meant to be made him angry, “We could have been so different. A family. A real one.”

Zechariah maintained that silent fight of looks as his only answer, until he blinked, “I told you already. I have my regrets. But whatever I say won't change what happened.”

"But at least it will help to understand."

The old man curved his lips in a bitter, cynical smile. "There's nothing to understand."

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“You don't want to know _the_ answer”

Malachi frowned. “Try me”

“No. You are waiting an answer; your perfectly fitting answer, but not _the_ answer.”

“Just say it, for fuck's sake.... if it's true you regret something, just say it.”

The old man sighed, “so, you want to know why I did all what I've done, all what I've been doing during my whole life?. For the same reason you are destroying this place."

Malachi shook his head, snorting. “What a convenient answer. Suitable for everyone. You are such an asshole.”

“Likewise.” that strange smile did not disappeared from that old man's face.

The two men looked at each other for a while, until Malachi, defeated, left the office and returned to the small subway station followed by David. There was nothing to say, nothing to develop.

Through their way back to the main FITA facility, and taking advantage of a couple of minutes in which the subway went absolutely dark, David patted Malachi silently.

* * *

 

He awoke in middle of the night. Staying in bed kept him stacking up anxiety layers to his already stressed mind, so he got up and went downstairs. The living room was in penumbra. It was better that way. He approached the cupboard and took a bottle. He drank directly from it and looked at the windows and its big panels of glasses. They were appealing more than ever.

He opened them and stepped to the balcony for first time since he had bought that apartment. Somehow, his fear of heights did not seem too strong that night, so he opened the glass panels. He kept drinking from the bottle while resting his body on the border of the balcony. A chill breeze made him sneeze several times. He rubbed one of his bare foot against the other. Suddenly, a long, warm cloth covered his back. He turned a bit and saw David by his side.

“Sorry for awakening you. And... Thank you” Malachi wore the long robe that David had just put on his shoulders.

“You're welcome. And don't worry. I was not sleeping, really.”

Malachi drank a bit more from the bottle and offered it to David, who a bit hesitant at first ended accepting it. Malachi sat in the border of the balcony, giving his back to the city lights, and looked intensely at David. There were no words, just looks under the moonlight and the reflection of the city. The sound of alarms and horns coming from distant streets. The chill breeze. The smell of smog and dew.

David observed Malachi's legs, worried for him to fall. He knew the man had a terrible fear of heights. To be there, sat in the edge of a 30th floor, made him a bit nervous. But it was not only that. There was also that disturbing image of a mass falling from so high, smashing the pavement. The blood. The guts. The head. He trembled, and almost unconsciously, he approached Malachi, just enough to grab him immediately in case of a slip. _Just in case._

“You are not only a handsome man, but also a kind, capable, trustworthy one. Strange virtues to find these days in people.” Malachi whispered, taking back the bottle and drinking another sip. David looked at him in silence. “And still yet, you are alone.” David raised his eyebrows, then frowned, but remained silent. “Why, I wonder. A man who can have whoever he wants to...”

David sighed and finally spoke. “Do I sense like thousand levels of idealization? Alcohol works too fast on you.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Come here, please...” Malachi's hand brushed David's shoulder, running slowly all along his collar bone. “If I ask you something, would you be completely honest with me?”

David whispered. “Sure.”

“Do you like me? And I guess you understand the meaning of my words. Please, don't derail it with a joke...”

David swallowed. Was Malachi looking for an ultimatum to his terrible week, just to have enough courage to threw himself from that balcony?. The thought made David get closer of the man, putting his hands on Malachi's kneels. _Just in case, just in case_. He did not want to see never again in his life that picture. The blood. The guts. The head. Maybe he applied too much pressure with his fingers, maybe it was his simple touch, but he could perceive the sudden shudder that the contact caused on Malachi. The silence lasted for a long time, but somehow, strangely, Malachi waited, drinking now and then from the bottle.

David moved his lips several times, but he never found the way to use his voice. He always gave up and kept silent.

Putting the bottle on the edge of the balcony, Malachi extended his arms around David's waist, and pulled him closer enough to rest his forehead in his shoulder. The warmth from his body comforted him. “I truly don't understand why you care for me. Any file would describe me as untrustworthy, unreliable, alienated. Not the best qualities for liking someone.”

David chuckled. "I had superiors with worse résumé."

“You did not need to like them, though.” Malachi smiled at the soft joke, “My point is… I'm not worth protecting. But still yet, here you are.” David rested his chin on Malachi's head, listening in silence while the man continued. “I'm... nothing more than an experiment heading to its failure. Eventually. A crafted man. What has an illusion of a person to offer?.”

David hugged him, squeezing him. “I feel you too real here for an illusion.”

“I'm still waiting the answer.”

They break the contact and took distance, however this time Malachi left his hands on David's waist.

“And I'm still thinking what to say.” David said.

“I've asked you something quite punctual.”

“Well... and I suppose the _punctual_ answer is _yes_.” David's tiny smile disappeared for a moment, aware of the situation, self-conscious of his reactions.

Malachi frowned. “You are a good man. Why choosing so wrongly?” David snorted as Malachi gazed at him. “Maybe... this sentiment is crafted too… people won't want anything with someone like me... they might have crafted it onto you.”

“Could it matter?”

Malachi raised his eyebrows. “How couldn't it matter? Faking emotions are-”

“If you are feeling something, right now, it's not fake then. Encouraged by someone else or not doesn't change the fact that it's what it is. Maybe it's the savant and the warrior thingie. Maybe it's just that I like you. The cause doesn't matter; if the feeling is there, then it's real.”

Malachi looked at him, pulling him closer and closer to his face until finally kissing him. A kiss that started calm, but grew up in intensity, dragging their bodies one another. The lust was there already, burning their minds, pushing their instincts.

Avoiding any potential accident, David put Malachi's legs around his own waist and lifted him. The initial plan was to simply stop in the sofa, keeping the making out a bit longer and never letting that situation escalate. But the desire was clouding his mind, and ended carrying Malachi to his small room in a bed that was not meant to be used for two.

Maybe he was foolish. He certainly was not the icky type, and all that resistance to Malachi's insinuations had never been too hard to control. But that night, after all that Malachi had passed through, after all what he had just told him... he simply accepted the fact that he had fallen. A fall that it was going to hurt him. Gretchen was right. Everyone ended falling for him.

David was not an exception. In the weakest moment, Malachi's charm was exceptional, and combined with David's natural tendency to protect, he could not help but fall. Maybe he did not want to resist anymore. It was good to fall once and then.

He started to unbutton Malachi's pyjama and in a blink of an eye they were moaning, rubbing their skins, kissing.

There was no turning back.

Tomorrow the memory would hurt, but for now, he would enjoy. He mentally said that to himself, and went lost in middle of pleasure waves.

* * *

 

He awoke. He had the feeling of a deja vu. Something that had happened twice in his life. Or in another. Maybe it was something that had been dreamt. It was still night but he could peer through the curtains a portion of the sky that was getting clear. He moved his body a little, just to perceive the place. He was not in his big, comfortable bed, but in David's, and the man was resting by his side, offering his chest as a pillow. Malachi sighed contented and cuddled him, burring his face there. The smell of David's skin and sex was strangely calming.

He was not a man who could enjoy a calm, classical night of sex. In fact, they seemed to be extremely boring for him and by the end of it they felt even worse. There was always an emptiness hard to fulfil after those nights if nobody had been punished in the process. However, that night he had enjoyed it as it was, in a calm way. In its classical, boring way. Nothing too rough, no marks in his wrists, no pain in the process. The most simply, standard way, and he was feeling... fine. That emptiness was still there, but not as it usually was. It was not like an immense ocean of guilt or anger. An emptiness that comes with the lack of sense. An emptiness that no prey, no predator can fill with their fear and their anger.

He caressed David's chest in a circle, running his fingers all over this pectorals and ribs. The texture of the tattoo was there. He could feel it, so he scratched it softly.

“How long have you been awaken?” David yawned. He stretched his arms, and then, surrounded Malachi with them, leaving his hand on Malachi's shoulder, moving his thumb on it.

“Not for so long.”

The only sound in the room was the brushing of their fingers on the other's skin, and sometimes, those muffled sounds coming down up from the city.

“Are you okay?” David whispered, changing his caress from Malachi's shoulder to his head.

“Mn-mh. Do you want another round?” Malachi said rubbing David's abdominals.

“There are 265 bones in the human body. How would you like one more now?”

Malachi snorted. “You say those even after sex?”

“They help with the mood.”

“To null it, I would say.” Malachi chuckled.

David patted gently Malachi's back. “It's okay. You know what they say... sex is like the air.”

“Oh?. I'll bite. Why?”

“Because it's no big deal unless you're not getting any, and if you get too much, you can't handle it.”

Malachi laughed softly. “Goodness.” Malachi kissed David skin there where he was resting.

They remained there, caressing each other in silence.

Malachi kept brushing that texture on David's skin more and more often until the idea got fixated in his mind. He did not want to ruin the mood, but his curiosity was always stronger than himself. “Tell me about your past, in Afghanistan.”

“Ugh...” David shrank. “What a timing you have. Really, didn't you find any other topic for a pillow talk? We have just done it. Can't we talk about how great or bad it was?. Something more... traditional?”

“It will be a conversation of two minutes. I'm not interested in it.”

David sighed, “I really don't want to... Not now. It's a sad story. Too sad”.

“Well, I won't cry, I promise.”

David smiled, knowing that was supposed to be a silly joke. “Thing is... I'll probably do...”

Silence.

Malachi was not going to give up. “Fair enough. So... what about _this_?” he caressed that tattoo

David sighed. “It's the same.”

Malachi lifted a bit and looked at David's eyes. The silence lasted some seconds. “I really would like to know. You know all about my past by now. Even the most twisted things.”

“You can re-read those confidential files...”

Malachi twisted his mouth. That was an asshole comment. “You know they don't have anything to offer beyond professional information.”

“Fine, fine. Well, if you want to break the mood, don't tell me I didn't warn you.”

“It's simply fair. Allow me to know you better. You said it was easy.”

It was David who twisted his mouth this time. He felt that comment like a back-stab, and he knew it had been on purpose when Malachi smirked at him. Manipulative asshole. “Okay, okay, I'll do what you ask for, _Sir_. But please.. don't look at me.”

Malachi tilted his head for a moment, curious for such requirement, but did not question it further. He simply adjusted himself to David's body and rested his head on his shoulder.

“Well, where to start from?. The tattoo... is a name.” his voice trembled, and the knot appeared in it almost instantly, straggling his throat. “Ammar. He was Afghan. A translator. He helped my team to deal with Taliban messengers and interrogations and whatnot. We met short after I was deployed there. It simply happened. The daily contact, I guess.”

“Did you have a serious relationship?”

“Yeah, of course. It lasted eight years.” David chuckled, “sounds like a lot, but in those times, in those lands... it was not like that. Everything had to be hidden.” He sighed deeply. “Somehow his family knew about us. They kicked him out and he started to worry about his safety. You know, if your family knows, it means that someone else outside knows too.”

“Why not to come to USA?”

“We tried. He also had been threatened by radical groups in Kabul for helping us. He was starting to be seen as a traitor for the most conservative groups in the authorities. He was in double danger. Sodomy and treason.” David cleared his throat. Malachi tried to look at him, but David only embraced him strongly. “I asked to everyone for political asylum. USA rejected our petition every time I did. My superiors at least allowed him to live inside the base. But still yet he had to work and walk in the streets. That day...” David's voice trembled, “when I returned from the training... My superior told me that Ammar had been caught by the authorities of Kabul. They were going to make an example of him in the main square. It was bad news, really bad. I ran through the streets so desperately. Never in my life I was so careless, a sole soldier running without protection through the streets with covered Taliban agents. I was... I didn't want him dead. I prayed so much in that endless run. I never was a religious guy, but I was just... praying." another long silence. "In the main square... the people there, only watching the _show_. I...” David went silent and cleared his throat a couple of times. “When I could reach the main park... I saw him, pushed from the highest building. I saw him fall... And I couldn't do anything. Nothing. And I saw him there, in the pavement. It was not him anymore. It was just a disfigured mass of meat, blood, and guts” David could not restrain it. He covered his face with his hands and some tears ran across his cheeks.

Respecting his desires, Malachi simply remained there, in his shoulder, embracing his waist until his weak moment finished, and the sudden tears were over as soon as they came.

It took him a couple of seconds to recover his voice, then he continued. “They said he was a traitor, so he did not deserved a bury under his faith. I brought him to USA. The LGBT muslin community here told me what to do, how to bury him. I followed as much as I could. And then I asked my superiors not to be deployed again to Afghanistan. I can't put a foot there. Too many wounds, none of them healed. That's why I tattooed his name on my rib. He is a horrible scar that should not be there, but still is. It was a horrible unlucky accident. The memory of his body splattered against the street was... is so strong that I hardly can remember any memory of him, smiling, or talking to me... or simply being alive. It's a disfiguring scar that nobody but me can see.”

Malachi frowned. “But.. how did you get married-”

“Oh, that. I couldn't bring his body to USA without a legal relationship. By that time New Jersey had some precedent in marrying people of the same sex. I started legal actions. My lawyers went with the weirdest arguments, and somehow the Judge approved the marriage to give me the power to bury him here. My parents freaked out like hell not because I was marrying a dead person but a man.” he sighed. “I should have done that years ago... maybe Ammar could be alive...”

“Not much use in thinking that now.”

“It's true.” David sighed too long and deep, and exhaled loudly. “Shit. I hate talking about this. All that shit comes to my mind too fresh. And it's been, what? Three years. I don't know when it will heal.”

“You think in him a lot, right?”

“Everyday. I left our room too early that day. I had to train with my team. He was dealing with insomnia 'cos all the stress of his situation, so I let him sleep. I didn't tell him good morning. Or goodbye.”

“Would it have mattered?”

David snorted. “Yeah, sure not. Nothing would have mattered. Only his life. And it was gone before I could do a thing. That hurt a lot. And keeps hurting. I trained so hard all my life to protect people... and still yet I was so helpless as any civilian.”

"The power you want is not in the training but in the money."

"When I realized about that, it was too late. Too late. Poor Ammar."

Silence.

“Are you... still in love with him?”

David chuckled after a moment of silence and wiped some tears that appeared suddenly. “I wonder sometimes. What did he leave with his death?. Love?. Frustration?. Melancholy?. Sometimes I think the grief from that image of his body on the pavement simply stuck on my mind. What a waste of good memories just because you have an emotion too hard to deal with.”

“You usually don't look like you are living in a past memory. In fact, I'm a bit surprised that you say this. You look like you overpassed the grief already”

“When we met, I told you I was a broken human being, right?. I never tried to find someone else after his death. I feel that I failed him as a partner. And I'll do the same with the next one, I don't want to disappoint anyone else.”

“Failed him?, Why?”

“I'd promised him to bring him to USA. And not inside a bag."

Malachi sighed. "You are a mere human. Not a super hero. Humans fail all the time."

Silence.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

In less than two weeks, they had to take five flights; moving from a country to another in that pointless journey looking for something they were not so sure to want to. The only certainty they had was the exhaustion. Bodies and minds tired from travelling and thinking too much and still yet Friedman's complete pattern was nowhere to find. Most people they had met shared half of his life's aspects, some tastes, his aversion to cooperative economy, but none of them  _was_ the pattern itself. Malachi had to incite, more than once, fake and disgusting handshakes in order to touch the potential individuals, just to know if such person reproduced the pattern completely. It was proving to be a waste of time. In fact, they were already running out of candidates. The list given by Malachi's father was getting shorter over time without positive results. 

They deserved a rest, so that they delayed their departure from Surinam; it was wise to use part of their time in enjoying its beaches before returning to Manhattan. Besides, they were too tired to jump into another flight. And not just that. The tiredness came from as a result of the chaotic life they were leading. So that, to change that randomness, to bring that old sense of routine that were getting used to, they returned to one of those small daily rituals: the home-made dinner. That night they decided to stay in the hotel; David cooked the meal, and both of them rested in the sofa, watching peacefully some silly movie on the screen. It was a better plan than going to a restaurant and walk through the night streets.

 

It was midnight when Malachi's mobile rang once. They had to break the kiss they were locked into. David rested aside, freeing Malachi from his weight, and put an arm over his face, recovering his breath. In the meantime, Malachi breathed slowly and frustratedly as his mobile kept ringing. He took it and looked at its glowing screen. It was an encrypted message without sender. He snorted. He opened it and read it in a glimpse.

_Gaan na die instituut Danke, Alberta, Kanada - projek BIST_

David, still panting by his side, got closer and looked at the screen, frowning. “What's that?” he said and placed a kiss on Malachi's bare shoulder.

“It says that we need to check an institute in Canada. Project BIST. I'm a bit sick of projects by now”. He threw the mobile to the floor and turned to face David, shrinking a bit close to his chest. The mood had been ruined already, so he simply slept beside him, wrapping his waist and burying his face in that thick neck for the rest of the night.

 

They flew at the morning to Canada, Alberta, without more information than the encrypted message. Danke Institute was impossible to find on the internet; and neither the government agencies nor the history records knew about it. It was, certainly, a mystery. A deep self-made investigation was in order.

David and Malachi split their paths to look for the odd institute all along the province. Going from a town to another, asking to the people living in each small village, looking for information from any non-formal source, turned out the precarious investigation into a fruitful recompilation of data by the end of the week. David had found an old lady who knew about an abandoned old institute by the name Danke in Evarts. They joined their paths once again and drove to the forgotten community in the Red Deer Country.

 

The town had been gone long time ago. Only some old shacks were here and there, standing stubbornly in the ghost town, fighting against the time. However, close to the Red Deer River, deep into the long extensions of green lands, they found the magnanimous institute. It was enormous, but clearly forgotten and left to rot.

The place was as big as a Sheraton Hotel, with countless rooms, classrooms and some entertaining rooms. The once spotless white paint of its walls was now a peeled grey layout of old, dry paint. Some walls were rotten and down, a part of the several floors of the institute had fallen apart, and the smell of dust was easy to perceive in the air.

Exploring the place took them hours until finding the database secretary. It had a huge amount of cabinets distributed in three inner floors that were easy to access by ladders that hung in a corner of the room. The cabinets were filled with millions of folders with names and photos of children. The files seemed to start in 1910 and stopped in 1994.

In the main desk of the room there was an old computer, but without electricity it was useless. Despite its good shape it was hard to say if it could be useful for their investigation. In any case, David rescued its hard disk while Malachi kept reading random files around the place.

Project BIST was not so easy to find considering the insane amount of information in the room. However, Malachi deduced that a suspicious project had to be put far away from most people, and the third floor of that room seemed tempting enough for that objective. He used the ladder fixed on the wall and reached the third floor, which was also filled with cabinets. As he had suspected, the place had more folders about projects than students, and in particular, old projects. He looked for the cabinet with the letter B and sought some drawers with the exact combination: BIST. Hesitation made his hand stand still on its handle for a couple of seconds. It was in the air the ominous certainty that something big and monstrous was going to pop up from it.

He opened one of the drawers and took several files.

More files about children. The first ones were boys and girls born in Brooklyn, from Ukranian Jewish parents. The others were from different parts of the world, and a mark on such files denoted that they were not considered the ones with the most potential to become followers of Friedman's pattern. Pretty much like the red folders of the Savant Project.

By reading, Malachi found that even some children had been taken from their biological parents, breaking the pattern just to be sure if they could craft the individual from that moment on.

Every kid, independently of their origin, had been forced to experience an accident during their teenage, just to give them the traumatic experience and the psychological effect of having a scar in their upper lip, as Friedman had. Living for years in the Institute, each kid received the most exclusive and sophisticated education, focused on mathematics and economy, and forcing all of them to graduate from University at the age of sixteen years old, as Friedman had. According to the reports, some deceases happened in the process as a result of the excessive stress, leading some children to commit suicide. Others, showing the first signs of mental illness, were taken away from the project, and their files were closed without more information of their destiny. The ones that resisted to that point were manipulated into marriage soon after their early twenties, forcing another pattern of Friedman's life on them.

The amount of survivors following the pattern were reduced over time until none left. When the stage of such project was considered a failure, they released the young adults into society and started once again the procedure with a new group of children. The cycle of an endless nightmare.

The horror that Malachi experienced in that moment made him sit in a wrecked chair that broke at the same time it felt his weight. The sound put in alert David, who climbed the ladder and found the man cleaning his clothes of the dust.

“Are you okay?” David approached him.

“Yeah… I was… it's just… This is a hell.”

“Did you find something?”

“Here” Malachi offered the folders to him and grabbed his beating head. It was more intense than his usual headaches.

David skimmed the files, twitching his face more and more as he kept reading the atrocities. He lifted his look once he finished, and looked at him disoriented. “So.. this means that there are a lot of institutes around the world like this?”

“I don't know”. Malachi frowned. “How the hell this was allowed to happen?, has this been happening all around the world? Children being forced to experience a life that it's not their?. Like me?. This is an aberration.”

David approached him and put his hand on Malachi's back. A gesture that helped to stop the panic that was growing from his inside.

“But what we won here? What was the real purpose of the message? There is no much to find here about the guy… or any potential replica of his pattern...” David said.

Malachi looked around. “It's not about the information related to Friedman's pattern. It's about the decision we are going to take.”

He took his mobile from the inner pocket of his jacket and stared at it.

Was his father playing with him once more? Was his father crafting his decision? A mere puppet following the puppeteer’s instructions?. Or this was the way to put things even?. It was infinitely hard to determine if anything, or maybe everything, was a result of a well done manipulation. Malachi could not be sure anymore.

He sighed. He would decide what to do on their travel back home.

* * *

 

After weeks of deep reflection, he checked the last potential individuals of the list. It was useless. He did not need to visit them. They were not following Friedman's pattern at all. It was only the last options from a list that was getting shorter, as it was getting so their chances to find the damned person who would repeat the pattern.

Malachi stood up from his desk and walked around his office. There were many pieces there to use for what he was planning to. He looked at the painting of the lonely tower and shook his head in disapproval. This was an excellent opportunity to get rid of it.

A knock in the door made him turn a bit on his heels, as he saw David stepping in.

“Did you want me to do something?” David said closing the door behind him.

“Yes, please. Take off these paintings”. Malachi pointed out several more besides the one of the lonely tower, and piled them all in a corner of his office. They were material for his plot.

 

Friedman was not a remarkable supporter of the Art, but Stephen Mnuchin was. And he was Malachi's new target now. A man destined to failure in economy despite his apparent, and probably bought, economy diplomas in different universities. Stephen was also well-known to fund many art events, using them as a way to develop a network of powerful and low-profiled contacts for legal and illegal purposes.

During the next weeks Malachi prepared the biggest bluff he was going to offer to FITA. Under the excuse of getting ride of old but valuable art pieces, Malachi arranged a fake gallery of antiques, and spread the rumour that, due to some bad decisions taken in the stock-market, his financial stability was at stake, so he needed some help to boost his sales, and the best way to do so it was through an art event.

The story quickly reached Mnuchin's ears, and it did not take much time for him to show up and offer his help and cash. In exchange, the man was going to ask Malachi for some random favours here and there along the life. Nothing specific yet, neither when nor what. Malachi knew quite well how illegal affairs were always closer to expensive art pieces, but he had not to worry about that now, he only needed a photo with the man, preferably in a handshake. Any future promise made now could be solved with the reintegration of the amount of dollars that the man put in this event plus interests. Nothing that Malachi could not afford in a short-term future.

 

The day of the inauguration, Mnuchin appeared and gave a short speech about the value of art. As soon as his words ended, he gave a handshake to Malachi and took advantage of the whole event, recorded and photographed by several media channels, as a campaign to attract the attention of some important politicians. This was exactly what Malachi wanted. With a bit of luck, the photography would be on the internet, even in some art newspaper, and could be used as an unspoken proof of his bluff to Dexter.

* * *

 

It was late to wash the dishes but David did it anyway. He needed to be focused on something, so he would not be thinking about Moebius project, Friedman's pattern, Malachi, or anything else, but it was useless.

Cleaning was not helping him to stop thinking. On the contrary.

It had been several months since the first time. Some appraisals outside the country, the damned journey to find the economist's pattern, and even the simplest boredom were a good excuse to end in his bed. So much resistance he had put before and now… now, it was so easy to fall. Always. Whatever _the rule_ was, it seemed to be suspended. At least, for now. Things kept happening. Once. Twice. Many times. And the strange silences, the unspoken pact of both of them not to dig on it were making things worse. At least, worse for him.

The lack of any promise, or a plan, or some guiding point that could help him to figure out where they were standing on was killing him. He was not a man who liked relationships in this light way. No strings, no attachments made him feel things too thin.

He needed to put an end to this. Whether it was going to hurt him or not, he needed to stop it.

 

Malachi, wearing his bathrobe, walked downstairs to the kitchen, rubbing the towel against his wet head. He approached David and stopped David's hands on the sink. And in middle of those common silences, he cupped his face and kissed him. What started softly, deepened and grew in intensity, as usual.

David stopped short and looked down when his stomached twitched. “I can't. I can't do this.”

A bit uncomfortable, Malachi took distance and rubbed his hair with the towel that was now on his shoulders. “Um. Okay, if you want to sleep-”

“No, I can't keep doing this, Kye. No more.”

“What?”

“I can't keep doing this. I'm not that type of guy. I need-. I don't want you to force you into-, into nothing you don't want to, but I can't do this.”

Malachi put the towel on the marble bar and sighed, “Ok. I think we need to talk.”

Both sat in the seats around the counter, but this time on the same side.

David poured some coffee in his own mug and tea on Malachi's. “I've told you... I'm more into-, clearer relationships. This _thing_ we have... I don't even know how to call it… and I have no fucking idea where we're going. And I usually need to know.” he sipped immediately to stop his words.

Malachi drank a long sip of his tea. The silence he usually used in his favour, was now the evidence of his own lost sense of direction. “I don't know either.” He focused on the mug in his hands.

David rubbed an eye and drank his coffee slowly.

The silence ate the moment.

“I know you are passing through a lot of shit. I didn't want to say a word until everything could be over… but… It seems I can't”, a long sip of coffee. The sound of the mug touching the marble counter. “Your rule. After the first time, I thought we were done, but... it kept happening. Over and over... you keep teasing me, and I always fall. I'm tired. I'm exhausted, it makes me think... round and round in my head. I--, I mean-. What do you want from me, Kye?. I heard you never break your own rules. But this…”

“I used not to. But I also used not to explain myself much to others.”

David tilted his head after drinking a bit of coffee, waiting for Malachi to continue, but he did not. Once again, silence. A long, endless silence filled only with the sound of mugs being placed on the kitchen counter, and sometimes, a shy sound of a sip.

“I also used to know who I were.” He chuckled; a forced, artificial sound in a grin that lasted a fraction of a second. “It's true”. Malachi finally said. “I thought it was impossible for me to break my own rules. I was as surprised as you about… now. About what's happening. I imagine that I simply asked myself _why not?_. I-…” Malachi lowered his look, trying to hide himself from David's eyes, “I've seen, and felt, so many things in these visions... I think I should-, I-, Temptation. Curiosity… I thought...”.

Malachi sighed, hopped from the seat and immediately left the kitchen. David rubbed his face, annoyed. Was Malachi not old enough to such childish behaviour of simply fleeing in middle of an adult conversation?. However, before he could finish his own thoughts, Malachi returned with a napkin rolled in a messy way, and put it on the marble counter. David observed it, then looked at him, curious but silent.

“I know I should have-. I'm not saying that you...” Malachi sighed again. For first time, the man was struggling to find words. All that fancy, elegant, and eloquent personality of his, vanished. It was funny. “My apologies I'm not making much sense. Do you know about Celts?.”

David frowned immediately. “Uh?. What that has to do with all this?”

“Just tell me. Do you know about them?.”

“Well, some Viking stuff somewhere in the north of Europe.”

“Celts are far related to the Vikings. They fought each other until they started to blend one another, and then, some landed in the coasts and stopped being nomads, a fine example are the Celtiberian. They were warriors.” David drank his coffee, unsure what he was expecting to heard, “The Celt warriors were famous for their bounding rituals. Well, now that I think about that, maybe this is not the most reassuring symbolism. Even less for this particular moment. Their bounding rituals were more like orgies out of control and alcohol. I'm not sure I should-” he said scratching his own chin.

“Kye, what this is all about?.” David said looking straight into his eyes, confused.

“I bought these-” he pointed at the cloth, “They are from the coasts of Spain. I'm not sure what I was particularly thinking when I did. But --. I hope you won't understand them with the orgiastic meaning.”

David frowned observing how Malachi unrolled the cloth and put on the counter two silver rings with an intricate design on them. David choked with his coffee, not sure _what_ to understand now.

“I know you are a man who values some level of symbolism, and commitment. These rings were shared by Celt warriors after a bounding ritual. They agreed to become partners in war until one of them would die. Overlook the fact that they were not particularly faithful to each other in the flesh. Maybe that-, I mean I hope you are not going to understand that as something I want-, Of course I enjoy-, uhm... Meaning-”, Malachi sighed deeply, “I hope you are not going to understand this as marriage either-. I'm not saying that we should not-”. Malachi sighed again, drank his tea, and gave to himself a moment of silence. Then, he took the biggest ring and showed it to David. “I think you are quite aware that I've never been in a relationship. I hardly can figure out things, still yet I'm going to give it a try. These rings are here just to offer you a symbolism that make you more confident with all this... So, being completely aware of the risks, the cons, and the warnings... would you like to be... some kind of... I don't know, complicated bound in my life and in yours?.”

David opened wide his eyes and swallowed his coffee. He looked at the ring, and then smiled at Malachi. “Sure. Hope I won't turn it into something more complicated then.” he gave him his hand and allowed Malachite to slid the ring in his finger. Then he took the other ring and looked at him tenderly. His eyes were too gentle.

“Would you like to be my significant, Celtic, non-orgiastic bond?.” David said, as Malachi chuckled lowering his face while extending his hand in the air and finally feeling the ring in his finger.

“I'm not sure. Maybe one day you'll regret the non-orgiastic condition.”

Both laughed and kissed shortly after, this time, without awkwardness, without guilt or doubts in David. Just a deep kiss that continued in the room, among sighs and moans.

* * *

 

Malachi nodded when he stepped into Dexter's office. With a single movement, he threw a heavy folder on his desk, in which corner the name was clear: Stephen Mnuchin. Almost as if a miracle had occurred before his eyes, Dexter smiled in surprise and took the folder. There was no need of words. Everything was said there. Or at least that was what Malachi intended.

 

Meanwhile, a big storm outside was starting.

Under Malachi's orders, David looked for Dominique and gave her a big amount of videos and photos that proved how the current President, the former senator Markham, had been too lax in his romantic affairs despite being a married man. Giving those evidences to Dominique was to give her all what she had desired to destroy the man for using her and discarding her like a soda can. The current charade of the president of the USA, with not only one, but several sexual scandals, had its days counted.

Despite that ace, Malachi was aware of the power of politicians, so he needed to get deeper into real nasty things. Sadly, sexual scandals were not a big issue in these days for most politicians, so he needed to find a heavier aspect.

Provided by some friends who were still active in the Army, David could collect rumours, bills and even photos that compromised the current president with big problems: the secret and completely illegal agreements that the man was doing with Finmecanicca, giving to the company free pass to sell war technology inside and outside the country as long as they provided to USA cheaper weapons than those sent to Colombia. This way, the conflict would be intense and impossible to end. A win-win situation for USA Army and the company. If the case of the sexual scandal was not enough already, this war scandal would never be taken lightly by the country. All that evidence would be sent to several different journalists to guarantee that the scandal will reach the surface.

Every card had been placed on the table. It was only a matter of time.

Malachi smiled at Dexter. It was said that revenge was best served cold. He hardly could agree with it. Despite the satisfying trap he was setting, there were many aberrations in his own life that were hard to forget, that made impossible to enjoy any future result from this. Revenge could be best served cold, but tasting it required some level of tranquillity, maybe healing, that he had not.

“You have saved us all, Mr. Rector. You are the true hero of this nation.” Dexter said when he closed the folder and started to type in his computer. “I will send you the rest of the money we agreed. And I hope we can count on your services in a near future”.

“I truly hope not. And no. I won't be doing this anymore.” Malachi smiled at him. It was so rare to find the man smiling that Dexter could not help but staring at him.

It was not a smile of politeness, neither a pure, honest one. It was a mixture of hatred and complacency. All those lies about running out of time, about the need of saving a decaying economy that could not sustain itself, which was meant to keep feeding the most powerful and useless individuals of the system; destroying itself, bending over it, gobbling itself up in a vain attempt to keep alive. He was going to destroy all that. Or at least, giving enough impetus to start the process of the destruction by its own.

Anyone could argue he had no power to decide what was worth saving from what not, but Malachi did not care about precarious and self-indulgent freedoms. Nobody was truly free, no matter what anyone could say. Better to get rid of the whole broken thing than to keep the illusion that something in it was worth saving. He was, after all, a practical man. What was rot in the core was dead and had to be removed, replaced, destroyed.

His smile disappeared as these thoughts filled his mind. He had such core. Endless patches, one over the other, trying to fix something already broken, useless, meaningless. As it had been all his life. Like antiquities. Just a bunch of old objects in stale rooms, with purposes lost ages ago, waiting an end that never comes.

Wasted things had to be eliminated. So, there was only one solution: threw what has lost its purpose, destroy what is left rotten and work in something anew: what emerges from the destruction.

He was determined to do so, to throw a perfect bomb in the right place to spread a massive instability that would destroy that fragile economy they were living in. With that, the illusion of a real political system would finally fall. Everything would be uncovered, chaos and danger would remain a bit longer. It was going to be a needed disaster. A dirty job that somebody had to start.

 

Malachi did not forced the moment to last much more, and left Dexter's office. This was going to be the last work in his life for this evil agency, and if his plan were going to work, it was going to be the last for the agency itself as well.

 


	8. Epilogue

* * *

 

It had been a year since the president Makham had assumed. Soon after he took the position, banks went bankrupt, asking for the government to rescue them several times, but never stopping the chaotic increase of debts. The super-inflation had been triggered and in a couple of months, the money for the rescue was completely consumed and once again banks had a debt equivalent to three GNP. Taxes were impossible to be collected because the biggest companies and richest businessmen had their money in off-shore accounts, evading taxes without any kind of penalty while the poorest people were unable to pay anymore.

The corruption had spread on every level of the system, and Justice had turned blind before the wealthy or, in the few cases where it could still work, was simply over-saturated of trials.

Unable to find a reliable source of money to slightly stabilize the situation, the secretary of the national treasure had renounced, and despite several ones that followed him temporarily, nobody lasted more than a couple of weeks.

In short, the economy was a real disaster, spiralling down in a accelerated way, impossible to control.

The sexual scandals and the case of illegal trade of weapons forced senators to call for an impeachment to Makham, while his wife, Helena, asked him divorce. In the end, Helena did not seem to be the pattern that everyone had believed once. Neither Makham.

The new elections came soon after. By that time, the rumour that it had been modified by a governmental agency called FITA spread on the Internet and raised awareness everywhere. Now every citizen had cast shadows of deep concern over the whole process and over the concept of democracy that had been used for so many years unconsciously.

Under these economical and political circumstances, Malachi closed temporarily his store, giving Gretchen her well-deserved vacations: a whole paid year just to enjoy in the best way she wanted to.

The store would take a break until seeing what kind of direction the world was going to take.

* * *

 

The mobile rang softly but long enough to awake him. He looked at the small screen and frowned. A single text message in Afrikaans without a sender.

_Alles is vernietig._

He chuckled. David, whose sleep was also interrupted by that insistent sound, turned and looked over Malachi's shoulder to the screen, curious, but he only could grunt in disappointment. He did not understand the simple sentence.

“That old man did it.” Malachi whispered, placing the mobile on the night-stand and turning in the bed to look at David, however, he kept the distance.

“Did what?” David was resting on his side, with his head on his fist, sinking his bulky arm and elbow into the pillow.

“He destroyed the algorithms. The last of them. It's finally over.”

Malachi sighed, and the thought of being free of that damned project made him shrink under the blankets. The silence lasted a bit, until David, curious for that strange attitude of Malachi who was avoiding his look, placed a hand on his bare shoulder. “Something on your mind?” 

“This keeps me wondering. Everything has been purged.” Malachi looked at him for a brief moment. David only could caught the bright in his eyes as they reflected the soft light outside the window. Then, as if he were ashamed, Malachi hid his look and raised his hand enough to show it outside the blanket. The ring in his finger shone as well, reflecting the midnight lights of the city. “I've been thinking in many things….” he pushed the ring with his thumb in order to make it spin “I'm not sure if we… we should continue with this.”

David raised his eyebrows, and sat on the bed. The movement uncovered part of Malachi's body. The city lights coming from the outside illuminated David's torso dimly. He had to swallow before speaking “Already regretted?” he looked his own ring in the penumbra. “this didn't come with, at least, a 5-years guarantee?” he joked softly, but this time Malachi did not laughed. Not even a chuckle.

“No… it's not regret. Not in that sense, at least.” Malachi looked at David “I'm not a normal person. Not like everyone. And the project has to be discharged...”

“Uh?.”

Malachi spun the ring in his finger a little longer, in silence. “ It was a mistake. What I was thinking when I proposed you this? I'm not good at this.”

“Well, it's not something you must be good at. You simply keep figuring things out, as we were doing so far. But.. well.. if you already gave up”, David touched his own ring, looking at it with a bit of sadness. He did not want to take it off. Not really. “I would like to know... why?”

Malachi shrank a bit more. “I hate the idea of following a pattern...”

“Mn. I know things didn't go exactly well lately, but... did I do something bad?”

Malachi shook slowly his head. “No, it's not you. At all.” 

“...so, then... Why?”.

“What if I become my father?. So rotten and dead on the inside. What if I've been dead for so long that I forget how to be alive?, What if I only know how to see an antique and nothing more?. What if I only care for myself, like him, like Dexter, like this twisted project…. After all, I was crafted to be so... I was made... Built. Created. Forced.” his eyes went teary, while an old memory of flames and wood and screams came, and disappeared “what if you end up needing to cheat on me because I don't know how to care? I'm also part of what has to be destroyed with FITA...”

David chuckled and squeezed Malachi's shoulder. “You are a person, Kye. And whatever they did to you, you can work on it. I'm here to help. And believe me, I won't cheat on you. I prefer ending things instead. Believe me.”

_ Stay. Just stay. _

Malachi bit his lower lip, and with an evasive look, observed him, still torturing himself on the inside. David had become more important of what he had ever imagined. He could not remember how his life was before this man, how dull and lack of colours it was. He was afraid that such grey landscape could return. But, was it not part of loving to set free waiting nothing in return?. He felt David's hand caressing his cheek, gently, as usual. As he always was. 

He felt grateful but also guilty for sharing a bed with such man. What a teenage sentiment to deal with, for a man in his late thirties. 

“Besides” David added, “let's not reach that point, okay?. Things can always work out. We are more than a stupid project made by loonies” he said, smiling at him. 

Malachi smiled, observing how David once again slid into the bed, under the blankets, closer to him.

This thing growing between them was something destined to be? A mere consequence of a crafted experiment made by a project? Or was something real, true that came from themselves?. Hard to decide.

Either case, the destiny of a Savant and his Warrior was to fulfil their quest, and so they did. Maybe their purpose had nothing to do with developing the theory of Moebius, but with the destruction of it. Perhaps everything had been a silly excuse for doing what they wanted to. In any case, from now on, they were free of that crafted curse, free of Moebius, free of that dark lion of the past.

Malachi embraced David, wanting to believe in his words. And so he did.

 

_ Stay. Just stay. _

 


End file.
